In My Own Skin
by drellassassin
Summary: After Charles returns, he's not comfortable in his skin and with who he has become. Story follows after the Season 3 première and goes through Doomstar Requiem. (Cover image by crow821 on dA specifically for this story!)
1. Chapter 1

Charles Foster Ofdensen doesn't want to be perceived as weak. It's almost hard to believe that he could ever been seen as such, but it never stopped him from thinking it in the back of his mind.

_Weak_. It was and is a four-letter word, dripping with consequences. If he lets himself prove that he has his weak moments, if he lets himself be caught with his guard down for once in his life...well weakness was a step in the wrong direction, it was a step towards the end, and an even further step towards the darkness that still lived within him.

The scars are a constant reminder that he has gone to Hell and back, that he is still flesh and blood, and that proves he can be broken. He can be weak. He can be destroyed.

So he has to appear as strong, as strong as his body will let him before it gives out, as strong as his mind can before it decays. There are people counting on him. _They_ count on him, even if they don't always realize it. Lately, he's started to feel as though one of them has come to his senses, and knows the manager is far more than he seems, but if that thought is really there, the frontman doesn't say it.

His disappearance isn't one that he talks about, and it's not one the guys ask about often. That first night back, after the show and after he changed into the dark gray suit and red tie they were far more used to than his street clothes, he explained what he could. He explained that there was more to the story, but then he turned their focus on what was important. The next album. He wasn't important, and he didn't need to be viewed as such.

There wasn't much heard from the band, as they traveled back to Mordhaus, only the idle playing of Skwisgaar's guitar. Of course, had they been able to hear the thoughts in their manager's mind, they would have realized that it wasn't as quiet as it seemed.

Eventually they arrived home, and the boys all retreated into the house, with Charles following behind them. He didn't bother to check in with them to see what their plans were for the night, he was too concerned with what he had to do, what he had to get started. So as the boys gathered in the main room, no doubt to drink away what had happened that night, he made his way past them, nodding a gesture that could have been read as 'goodnight' and headed down the hall.

Once inside his quarters, Charles stopped to look around his office. The renovations were mostly completely, but there were a few things out of place. His good lamps, for instance, were still broken. The Ikea ones though, were in perfect condition. There had to be some sort of a metaphor for this, but Charles was too exhausted to truly explore it - there was much to do, but it would have to wait for another day. With the office door shut behind him, he look one final look around the office before heading through the door in the far side of the room to his bedroom.

It was the look of his bedroom that actually shocked him a bit. It almost seemed strange, but his bed was how he had left it that morning, nine months ago. Sheets pulled back slightly, pillows moved, a water glass now collecting dust on the bedside table. It seemed as though no one had come in here once he died - or faked his death, as it were. Nothing was changed. Everything was the same. Tomorrow, he'd find out from his assistant why nothing had changed, and tomorrow he'd make sure the Klokateers were back, cleaning as they were supposed to. But now, his body ached.

As he turned on the bathroom light, he was happy to see that at least the bathroom had been cleaned, it had just been his office and bedroom that had not been touched. It would make showering easier, cleaner, or at least give him one less thing to worry about. The light bulb above blinked a few times before shining bright, as he finally looked at the mirror. The scar on his left cheek was still there, and he took his glasses off, resting them on the counter, as he ran his pointer finger down the scar. This wasn't the only scar he had though. Not by a long shot.

Slowly, he started to undress. His suit jacket was first, and as he winced slightly, the tie was next. Instead of carefully placing them on a nearby chair, he let them fall to the ground, as he slowly unbuttoned his white button down shirt, revealing his many scars. The first time he was beaten and broke a rib in his teens. The first time he was stabbed accidentally while fencing in college - though he ended up teaching his opponent a lesson after. The scars that hurt though, were the wounds that were fresh. The scar on his cheek was the one everyone saw, but no one saw where the arrow went through his chest completely, no one saw the cuts on his back when he was fighting for his life, no one saw the scrap of a bullet flying past him, a complete oversight of war. Sure, Salacia couldn't see him, but others could. He spent the past nine months fighting for the second change he had, and he was determined to get back to his boys, to get back to the life he had before with new purpose.

The newer wounds were from a few days ago, a slash to his side by someone who he apparently looked at wrong - and the other person didn't live to tell the tale. A bruse from a fist being thrown into his ribs. He was a broken man. Covered in scars and bruises, his side wound only starting to scab over now. He had given all for his boys, and would continue to do so. He had to. This was all he had, and as he looked at himself in the mirror, he allowed himself to trace each scar, each cut, each wound, even if it hurt him slightly to do so. This was who he was now.

With the remainder of his clothes discarded, he stepped into the shower, and the water never seemed to be hot enough to wash away all his sins, his regrets, his worries and his doubts. With no one around to watch him, he allowed himself to lean his back against the shower wall and slide down to the bottom, leaning forward with his knees bent, his fingers running through his hair and then moving to the back of his neck, where his gear brand rested. He wanted to feel the stress leave his shoulders, he wanted to feel the release of finally feeling safe, but he didn't feel that. He wasn't safe. He knew no one was.

When he could get the strength to stand again, the shower was turned off, and his clothes were forgotten as he dried off with a towel and headed towards the bed.

A few things were moved: the dusty glass was moved to a different table. The books he had been reading nine months ago were placed in the bedside table drawer, where he hoped he'd forget about them. A few things were placed: his glasses were placed where the dusty glass once sat, and from his bag (which he had a Klokateer bring in while he was showering), a semi-automatic pistol was pulled out. He checked the safety, and checked if it was loaded, and pulled the magazine out, reviewing it, counting the bullets, making sure it was fully loaded before he placed it back, and placed the gun under his pillow.

There were things to do, and there were secrets he had to keep, but for now, he would have to rest. So his head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes.

Only, that sleep wouldn't come. Instead, he lay in bed, staring out the window at the moon.


	2. Chapter 2

Amazing art based on this chapter can be found here!

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After hours of drinking in the kitchen with the others, Nathan finally moved off on his own. He couldn't count how many drinks he had, and in fact he wasn't even going to try. He was drunk beyond his means, and he was confused. Emotions didn't come easily for him, and the fact that his manager was back after being dead - after they held a funeral for him, it was almost too much. The rest of the guys had headed off to their separate ways, but not Nathan. He wasn't ready for bed. So he left the main room and started walking, not wanting to admit that he knew where he was going.

Nine months ago, they had been celebrating. The album had released and things were going well. Despite the dumb party that Charles had insisted on throwing for them, things were going well. Nathan, well he doesn't remember much of that night. He remembers talking to Pickles about something, and he remembers doing a shot with Toki. He remembers telling Charles a joke and getting him to laugh - something that hadn't started happening until recently, and once he had gotten the CFO to laugh once, Nathan had been determined to keep the laughing coming. But then it all went to shit. Then they were all fighting for their lives. And by the time he reached outside, and saw the Metal Masked Assassin standing over Charles, he almost blacked out in rage. A 2X4 was slammed into the assassin's head because "that's my bread and butter you're fucking with", but all Nathan could do was stare at the man at his feet, beaten and bruised, bleeding and unconscious, not breathing.

Nine months was a long time to lose someone, and just when things were getting worse, when they thought that nothing was going to change, that things were not going to get better and they would have to do what the label wanted them to do so that they could still keep their careers, it all changed. And so Charles walked in, street clothed, scared, no glasses, as if nothing changed. He promised to be there when they got back, and Nathan had almost worried his friend wouldn't keep his promise. He had left them before.

But he was there, waiting for them. He was there, back to looking how he always did in his dark gray suit and red tie, hair slicked back, but his scar was still there. What had the manager done for them, that they didn't know? Nathan, while he tried to listen to the short explanation of the nine month disappearance, couldn't pay attention. All he could do was stare at the dead man in front of him, very much alive and breathing.

Getting back to Mordhaus, well it was a relief that Nathan didn't know that he needed. As he stood in the main room with Toki and Pickles, the three of them stood and watched as Charles just nodded towards them, not saying anything and just walked past them. While somewhere he knew there was nothing to say, it still frustrated Nathan. What was going on? What the hell actually happened? What else was being hidden from them?

This is what caused the drinking, and the more they drank, the more he started to feel numb. It was the familiar feeling he was using to cope these past months, trying not to admit that he missed his manager - his friend - as much as he did. He didn't want to make it known. Feelings, well that wasn't something he was supposed to have. It wasn't metal. It wasn't good. They were just annoyances that got in the way.

Around 4am, Toki, Skwisgaar, Murderface, and Pickles headed off (or passed out drunk) to their respective places. Nathan, well he was restless and he wanted answers. So down the hallway he went, and before he knew it, he was outside the CFO's office, and opened the door.

He hadn't expected Charles to be sitting at the desk - he had walked past it for months without having a single person there, and it made sense that he wasn't there now, despite the fact that he seemed to work all hours of the day while he was still here with them. Only the moonlight was coming into the office, and through a slit in the back of the room - Charles' bedroom.

For a moment, the frontman paused, wondering if there was a possibility that Charles was awake, because he wanted answers. His palms turned into fists as he stormed towards the bedroom and pushed the door open, about to open his mouth to start screaming, to ask what the hell was going on, but it was what the moonlight was hitting that caused him to pause.

The light was hitting Charles, lying in his bed, his back to the door. The sheets were resting at his waist, but that wasn't what Nathan was focusing on. What he focused on was the scars. The moonlight hit each and every one, there had to be at least fifteen, if not more. The man in bed looked broken, he looked bruised, he looked like he really had been through Hell and back. Those scars told a story.

What he didn't expect, was the man in the bed to stir.

Nathan stood at the door, drunk and starring, as Charles shifted in the bed, looking up over his shoulder to who was at his door before he shifted to sit up, and stared over to Nathan. The two of them remained speechless, as Nathan noticed the other scars on the other man's chest. They stayed like that for a few minutes, staring at each other and not saying anything. Neither one of them wanted to touch the situation in the air between them. There was a lot they weren't saying. There was too much being held secret.

Eventually, Nathan just left the room without a word, and Charles could hear the door to his office close. He stayed sitting up in bed, his back to the headboard.

Sleep wasn't going to happen. It wasn't going to happen for a while.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite the lack of sleep, there was a determination in Charles' step as he made his way around Mordhaus. His scar on his cheek was no longer visible, knowing that the less of a reminder that he was gone and things weren't completely back to normal, the better. The boys needed to know that he was back now, and he wasn't going anywhere. So when sleep didn't come to him last night, once Charles had decided to no longer try to decipher what exactly that was with Nathan last night, he cleaned and bandaged his wounds and dressed in his normal suit. He fixed his hair. The gun from under his pillow was put his inside jacket pocket, because now he could never be too careful.

Still, it was important for things to get back to normal, and there was a lot of recovery work that he had in front of him. The renovations needed to be fixed. The employees needed to get paid. The guys needed to know that things were back to how they were before. He spent hours in his office, working through the day and night, under the request to not be disturbed. Of course, he should have known that his continued working would cause the band to act out, so once Thunderhorse was taken over by the boys, Charles found himself again frustrated, rubbing his brow as he listened to the reports on where the boys were.

He understood the acting out. He understood the reasons for everything and why they wanted to get back to their roots, and in a small way it made Charles' job of continue to fix things financially easier. Hell, he even got a few Facebones recordings done. Getting the guys to come back though, it was a little more difficult than expected. Would he have been that stubborn, if he was Nathan? Honestly, he couldn't answer that, he didn't even know if he could ever be in Nathan's shoes. Charles was too calculated, too meticulous to ever get into that situation. Then again, he supposed people had a way to surprise you.

Like how Nathan had appeared at his bedroom that first night back, staring at him as if he was seeing a ghost, and Charles supposed that was exactly what he was seeing. It couldn't have been easy for them to have a funeral for him and watch him reappear, but if Charles could have one moment to be selfish, he'd scream that it was far harder for him than anything else.

But Charles couldn't be selfish. He lived his life for others, even if that meant dying for them. The loyalty wasn't ever shown to be appreciated, hell he wasn't even sure the guys knew, or if Nathan even knew what his scars actually were.

As the days went by, things got back to normal. The guys got into their antics, Charles cleaned them up, they had their meeting where no one really listened to him, and that was that. Though Charles had noticed lately that someone _had_ been paying attention. Every now and then Charles would look over and meet his eyes with green ones staring at him, but tried not to think anything of it.

That was until late one night, after their mothers had left and the Christmas decorations had been put away, that he found he had a visitor.

It had been a particularly hard day, spending most of the time in his office, scheduling press junkets for the boys, organizing meetings with the UN, doing his usual spin on the media with Associated Press. It was late, around 2am, and while he was desperate to retire into his bedroom for the night there was still one last thing he had to get done. Still, it didn't mean that he couldn't try his best to relax a bit, so his tie was resting on his desk; his suit jacket was hung on the back of his chair, and his trusted brandy was sitting near him. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone and his glasses were off and resting on top of a stack of papers in front of him. In that small moment, he had his guard down, and that seemed to be the opportune moment for a visitor.

"Hey." The voice was a rough growl, and Charles looked up to watch Nathan walk into his office, sitting in the chair in front of him, a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

Charles sighed and sat up straighter, putting his glasses back on as he looked over to Nathan. This was the first time they had been alone in the same room since Charles came back, and that wasn't lost on him at all. "Ah, Nathan. What can I, uh, do for you?"

There was a silence between them again, and it was oddly familiar of the night months ago, and Charles found himself feeling a bit uneasy at it. He could feel Nathan staring at him, as if he was trying to focus on something that wasn't there. Charles subconsciously rubbed his left cheek, and this seemed to be the thing that broke the silence.

"Why are you back?" Nathan said; his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward in his chair, "Why are you here? When are you going to fucking say anything?"

"Well Nathan, I told you I'd, ah, tell you in time."

"No!" Nathan stood up, and threw his whiskey bottle past Charles' head, and as it flew past Charles and hit the wall, Charles didn't flinch. "No, you fucking tell me _now_."

Charles looked at Nathan, watching the other man's facial features, his eyes narrowed, his hands formed into fists hanging by his side. Everything about Nathan's posture told Charles that Nathan didn't just come here to talk. While Charles was not expecting Nathan to just sit there and listen, he also wasn't about to tell Nathan what he wanted to hear. It was late. He was tired. He didn't have time for this. "No."

"_No?!_" Nathan's voice was louder and angrier, and his fist came down on the mahogany desk in front of him, causing Charles to stand up and point towards door as he walked around his desk.

"Nathan, I think you need to leave." Charles stood in front of Nathan, his expression stone cold. "I am not telling you anything that you…want to know, so you need to go. It's late and you're, ah, drunk so…"

The attempts to get Nathan out of his office didn't seem to work, and Nathan interrupted Charles mid-sentence by screaming intelligibly and throwing a fist towards the manager. The punch made contact, and Charles' eyes narrowed towards Nathan as he wiped the blood from his cut lip. "Leave." He said again, his voice a little stronger now. The response was as expected, and Nathan growled before throwing his fist again towards the manager but this time Charles refused to be made a fool of. The punch was caught and in one move, Charles twisted Nathan's arm behind his back and slammed his face into the desk with his other hand. Nathan struggled for a moment before realizing that the manager wasn't going to let him go unless he stopped. "Nathan, I don't want to hurt you," Charles said softly, with a tinge of anger behind his voice. Nathan stopped struggling against Charles' grip on him, and the manager released his hand from Nathan's wrist and his other hand from the back of Nathan's head and stepped a good distance away.

The front man stood up and looked at Charles with wide eyes, and looked over the other man in front of him, his hair dishevelled now from the short time of conflict, the look in his eyes darker than Nathan was far used to. The makeup covering the scar on Charles' face had been partly rubbed off, and he looked as if it meant nothing to just move around a punch like that. Nathan stared, wide-eyed and finally broke the silence again. "You can't just…_fuck_ you can't just do that!"

"You punched me, how did you expect me to react?" Charles asked, allowing himself to raise an eyebrow towards the larger man.

"No, I meant…" Nathan moved his hands in and out of fists, the struggle of finding the right words playing fully on his features, "Leaving us. Leaving…playing dead, you can't just do that."

"I know. Believe me, I, ah, I know."

Their eyes were locked now, neither one of them trying to make the next move, and neither one of them being able to read the other man. Charles wasn't sure what there was to say, and Nathan wasn't sure how to ask the questions he wanted to ask. Instead, all Nathan could do was focus on the still very alive and breathing man in front of him, hair out of place, shirt messed up and undone, and a glimpse of other scars on his chest coming through.

This time, it was Charles to break the tension. "Well, I'm clearly not getting any more work done tonight." He walked over to his desk and picked up his glasses, cleaning them with the hem of his shirt before putting them on, "Join me in a drink, since…ah, yours is currently still dripping down my walls?" He gestured to the liquor cabinet to Nathan's left and the front man just shrugged, "Fine, but I get your good shit. You fucking slammed my head into your fucking desk."

"Well Nathan, you...you tried to punch me."

"Tried? I got one in -"

"Yes, you got _one_ in." Much to Nathan's surprise, Charles actually smiled in that one moment, and for a second, it seemed like things were getting back to normal. Or as normal as things could be. Little did Nathan know, that couldn't have been farther from the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

While it had been true that he wasn't going to get any work done that night, Charles wasn't going to get any sleep that night either. It was far from the question now. His eyes fell to the empty bottle of brandy in his hand and looked over to the man sleeping on the couch next to him, a half empty bottle of rum on the floor. His lip was still split and was slightly swollen from the power behind Nathan's punch, and his right hand hurt a bit from catching the second punch, but even Charles had to remind himself he was stronger than he seemed to be at times. What was keeping him awake though, minus the fact that he was now too wired to sleep and too drunk to move from the couch, was what happened hours before.

He hadn't expected the confrontation – though he had stopped it from becoming much of a confrontation at all, he still hadn't expected it. He expected the guys to start questioning where he was, but even Murderface went back to his usual ways of calling him a robot, Toki and Skwisgaar just seemed happy that they didn't have to worry about finances anymore, and while Pickles seemed to look as if he thought something else was going on, he never said anything – mostly because he was never sober enough to do so. Nathan, on the other hand, had surprised him. Charles didn't expect the anger (at least to the extent that it was), and he didn't expect the punch, and Charles certainly didn't expect that he had to stop Nathan in his tracks like he needed to.

They hadn't said much, Nathan and Charles, once they started drinking. They mostly talked about things that weren't important (a groupie Nathan had brought home the night before, what Charles does for his free time that he didn't really have these days, etc.), and the more they drank, the _less_ they talked. It was better that way, sitting in a strange comfortable silence. Charles wasn't much for talking lately and he didn't feel like blocking another one of Nathan's punches. He was too weak for that right now.

_Weak_. There was that word again, constantly leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He couldn't be seen as weak to the boys, and especially not to Nathan. It meant too much, it took too much to get back to them, and Charles was determined to make sure this wasn't going to go to waste. There was so much he wanted to tell them and so much that he couldn't: where he had been, who he had been with, what he had seen, what horrors he had managed to escape. Most importantly, how he was still alive, and what gave him the motivation to keep going.

Charles had the feeling that in Nathan knew at all that his main motivation for all of this, was not the band as a whole (though that was a big factor), but Nathan himself, well that wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. There was too much at stake, and he was only coming to the terms of this overwhelming motivation now - had it always been there? It wasn't until he was back home that he started to realize that perhaps he was given a second chance, not just because the prophecy demanded it so, but because there was still something else he had to do. It had always been easier to live his life alone, and that was how it had been for years. Sure, he had his own share of girlfriends here and there, but nothing could compare to his work and his own personal determination (_and_ personal demons).

Eventually, when Charles came to realize that his work was more important than his own life, he started to try to re-evaluate things. He had given up his life for them, and what did he get in return? It was enough to make him clench his hand into a fist tightly, lost in thought for a moment. He let out a heavy sigh, removing his glasses for a moment as he leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as his left hand pinched the bridge of his nose.

The forward motion, the shifting of the couch caused the man next to him to stir slightly, and Charles dropped his hand to look over to Nathan, passed out drunk on the couch next to him, not in the most comfortable of positions, but passed out all the same. It felt a bit of a reversal, Charles now watching Nathan in one of his most vulnerable of stages - though there were no scars and wounds laying open for all to see.

When he realized he was staring at Nathan a little _too_ intently, he pressed his lips together in a frown, put his glasses back on and stood up. The moment that he got off the couch, Nathan shifted into a more comfortable position, stretching out to the full length of the couch, but made no real gesture of waking up or moving. Charles knew that this wasn't a good idea, watching over the front man like this, but it almost seemed as if he wasn't given any other choice.

Still, staying around and watching Nathan sleep felt awkward. It felt like he was almost intruding, despite the fact that this was his own living quarters they were in, not Nathan's. Charles walked over to his desk, making a mental note to get the scratches in it buffed out in the morning, and gathered his tie and suit jacket, finally deciding to retreat into his bedroom for the remainder of the night. The sun would be up in two hours, and while the sun rising certainly never meant anything for Nathan (as the man would sleep through the day if he could); it meant a hell of a lot more for Charles.

It meant that he was still here, that he got another day to work towards his purpose, and to keep his motivation. If the night he just had proved anything, is that he was right in picking the life to fight for: his own, and for the man sleeping on his couch.

Some things, though, were meant to be kept secret.


	5. Chapter 5

For the remainder of the week, Charles found himself in a weird dance with Nathan; one that he wasn't too sure that he knew how to play. Though during the day, Nathan acted as normally as possible – or rather, how he had acted for the years that Charles had known him and the rest of the band – at night he was making more trips into Charles' office. It started to become like clockwork. When it happened the night after the punches being thrown, Charles couldn't help but sit up straighter as Nathan barged into the office and sat back down in front of Charles' desk as he had the night before. Would he give him more trouble? Would they argue, or get as close to an argument as Charles would allow, again?

This time though, there was no whiskey bottle thrown on the wall, and there were no dents in the desk. Instead, the front man had simply walked in with not one but two bottles of whiskey, and put one on Charles' desk in front of him, silently requesting the other man drink with him. That night, there were no punches thrown, but there were some words. Nathan brought up the topic of Charles' absence again, and Charles just repeated the same line, "I will tell you all in time". Nathan fought it, and Charles responded by not saying anything, and just drank. Nathan followed suit. As the night wore on, there was a strange game they played, matching each other shot for shot, so that when Charles woke up the following morning with his head on his desk, a paper stuck to his face as he woke up, his headache told him everything. When he took the paper off his face, all that read was "Next time, don't pass out" in Nathan's handwriting.

That next night, Charles wasn't sure that Nathan would come back, but like clockwork, at exactly 2am, the singer walked through the door, this time with a 30 pack of beer. It wasn't a brand that Charles was particular fond of, but he had to admit something he _was_ growing fond of were these nightly visits. In a strange way, it gave him something to look forward to at night. During the day, he held his normal meetings, fought off ridiculous ideas from the guys, trained yet another personal assistant. He had his phone calls; he made arrangements for the concerts, and checked in with those that he had to check in with. He still had his secrets, hidden within the depths of Mordhaus, and those secrets were attended to when he could get the time away to do so. He scheduled himself for every minute of every day, but once night fell, there was no schedule. Just…an unspoken standing meeting that he looked forward to more than he wanted to admit.

So when Nathan came in with the beer the third night that week, their third meeting, Charles assumed it'd be another night of drinking and not talking, staring at each other trying to see what the other was thinking. He was wrong.

"I want to ask you a question," Nathan's rough voice was a change in pace of what usually happened at night, and Charles found himself surprised for the conversation, but was also bracing himself for what was coming. "How'd you learn how to do that?"

Charles raised an eyebrow in confusion. There were plenty of things that Nathan could have been referring to, but he was certain he hadn't done anything extraordinary in the past five minutes that seemed worthy of that question. "I…ah, what are you asking about, exactly? How did I learn to do _what_?"

"Fight. Throw a punch. Hell, _stopping_ a punch. I mean, I can fucking knock a guy out, but fuck, you had me pinned down to your fucking desk as if it was nothing!" Nathan's eyes were wide, as if he was reliving the memory of when he was against the desk, and it almost looked as if there was a slight hint of pink to his cheeks, though Charles thought he was imagining that.

Still, Charles actually laughed for a moment, completely caught off guard. "Well, I…ah," Charles paused, and reached for a beer, tossing Nathan one, "Let's just say I've held other jobs than just working here."

"That's fucking bullshit! Come on!" Even though it was a protest, Nathan's tone was joking, which Charles took as a good sign, at least for now. Nathan opened the beer can and narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward towards Charles, "You can't fucking hide everything you know. I'm going to fucking figure you out."

"You can try," the CFO said, laughing, "You can _try_."

The rest of the night, well it went the same as the others. They drank and talked about unimportant things, though they joked around more than they had the nights before. It ended the same though, one of them passed out drunk, again this time it was Charles, but at least he made it to his bed this time. And there was no note on his face, thankfully, but he couldn't help but check and make sure nothing was written in marker. There wasn't. That he knew of.

The fourth night was more of the same. The fifth night was the same. Every night at 2am, Charles had a visitor. They didn't talk about the reasons why he was there, and he just kept asking Charles as many questions as he could, questions he knew that the manager wouldn't answer, and questions that he knew he couldn't get him to react to. Still, Nathan kept coming, and Charles kept looking forward to it.

Saturday night came around, and with a concert that night, Charles stayed in the control center with the Klokateers, watching over any pending disaster that was bound to happen – because they all seemed to be so lucky like that – and preparing the press releases to send out the following day, already knowing that it was going to be a late night. While an electrical malfunction ended up costing a few lives, it wasn't too many or anything out of the ordinary. A regular night. Still, despite everything, despite the work he had to do, he found himself looking forward to when 2am came around.

It came and went. Soon it went to 3. Then 4. By 4:30am, the last press release was out and sent to AP for the morning papers and he was exhausted.

Though exhausted wasn't the exact word for what he was feeling. He felt…alone.

It was a strange feeling, mostly because he had no reason to feel alone, as he had been alone for most of his life. Charles wasn't a fool, and he knew that the nightly visits had to have something to do with this, but he also knew that he couldn't just expect any member of the band, Nathan or otherwise, to show any sort of kindship towards him.

Still, he was frustrated. Wrestling with emotions that he was confused by, not being sure what exactly they meant. He couldn't think about this. Whatever _this_ was supposed to be.

And although he did not sleep at all that night, as he looked out his window watching the night sky, he couldn't help but notice the looming shadow that appeared at his bedroom door around 5am.

But he didn't turn around this time, and the shadow didn't stay.


	6. Chapter 6

One of the things Charles had come to enjoy even more since he was back were his business trips. They were an excuse to prove that he was still on top of his game, truly giving him the chance to shoot down any rumors that the CFO wasn't fully back to the "financial genius" that he was supposedly. They were also an excuse to get out of Mordhaus and focus on something other than his conflicting thoughts on how his life was progressing there. It had been about a week since the last 2am meeting, but since he had left the compound that Sunday afternoon for his trip, he hadn't been expecting anything big.

He had left orders with his personal guards that the boys were to be watched carefully but not to interfere with them too much. While he left on the trip with his personal assistant, he sent the assistant back to Mordhaus after the week was done - telling the Klokateer that he had other things to attend to and these things he had to attend to alone. The younger man (or Charles at least thought he was younger) nodded his head and responded with a simple, "Yes, Sire", and returned home while Charles went to his next destination.

The last week was spent conversing with a newly acquainted friend, one who had saved his life and had opened his eyes to things he didn't know was possible. There were still things that needed to be done, Charles knew this, but for now they just had to wait and see where things lead them. "My friend," the Priest said, sitting next to Charles one night, "You'll know when the time is right."

"And if that time never comes?" Charles asked, looking over to the man in the deep red robes next to him, before his eyes moved up towards the prophecy painted on the wall, "How do you know that it will come?"

"It must. For the prophecy says it is so."

"I don't know if I can trust that. I don't know if I can believe in...uh, well any of this."

"You're alive, and breathing, yes? Then you must believe, as you are as much a part of this as they are. As _he_ is."

Charles gave no true response to Ishnifus Meaddle once he spoke, and Ishnifus wasn't expecting one. The much older man could see the strain that this was putting on Charles and what it was doing to his psyche, but offered no suggestion or assurances that things would work themselves out. It was something that had to be believed.

By the time the second week was out, Charles was back on his way to Mordhaus.


	7. Chapter 7

On the day of his return, Charles found that for once he couldn't actually get any work done. The more he tried to accomplish, the less productive he ended up becoming, and for the first time in years since working with the band, he moved all his meetings and cleared his schedule.

While the business aspect of the trip had been one that Charles had been looking forward to, it was speaking to Ishnifus that he had been dreading. Yes, the man gave him new purpose, brought him back, healed him, and set him on the right path, but it didn't mean that Charles was exactly comfortable with how things were turning out. He felt wrong. He didn't feel like himself. He felt far different than he had before, and being told what he had to continue to do didn't exactly help. He was a player in all of this, and he wasn't even sure what all of this was. All he knew was that he couldn't tell the boys yet, and only one other person knew of his plans - and that person was currently being kept hidden in the depths of Mordhaus.

Still, the knowledge of everything that he had to do wasn't helping the already large amount of strain he was currently putting on himself. While the two weeks away helped to clear his mind, in a way, of the strange happenings and 2am meetings he had liked for a bit, coming back brought all those thoughts and confusions back.

It was made worse once it hit nightfall, and he was debating on what he could do to keep himself and his mind busy, so that he wouldn't need to focus on the overwhelming feeling of being incomplete wearing him down.

So he did what he always did in these situations. With his schedule cleared and his night open for whatever he pleased, he got changed and headed down to the private gym set up for the band.

He hadn't expected anyone to be in there, so when he saw Nathan hitting the punching bag with a scowl on his face, Charles looked surprised. He found himself watching Nathan carefully, watching his form, how he moved, and assumed he was caught staring because Nathan stopped abruptly and looked over to Charles.

"See something you like?" The front man joked, in one of the first solo conversations they had since the weeks before and their nightly visits. Nathan smiled, wiping his forehead with the back of his left hand, and appeared to be waiting for an answer.

It was a loaded question, and Charles quickly figured out the outcomes of each of the ways that he wanted to answer, and picked the one he felt would get the least amount of reaction. "Actually," Charles spoke as he approached Nathan, his eyes staying focused on the other man's facial features, "Yes, and, ah, no." Nathan's smile fell a little bit, and Charles raised an eyebrow towards him, though he continued. "Your form is off. You're not throwing all your power behind your punches, you're...just going through the motions."

"Yeah?" Nathan said, crossing his arms, looking at the punching bag and then looking at Charles, "Then why don't you show me how it's done?"

There it was, that request again, though there was no alcohol behind it this time, and there were no strange observations on Charles' part that could have easily be read into as being something more than it was. It was almost accusatory, as if Charles couldn't and wouldn't step up to Nathan's small challenge.

"Come here," Charles gestured, as he walked more towards an open space, throwing his stuff on the ground, but keeping his glasses on, "Hit me." He stood in front of Nathan and gestured towards himself, "Try to hit me."

"Try? I don't need to fucking try!" Nathan laughed, words practically mirroring their conversation weeks ago, and came towards Charles at a charge and threw a punch. Charles dogged and in turn threw a punch into Nathan's stomach, though without half the power that it should have had behind it. Nathan gasped a little, made a strange sound, though he coughed and tried to cover it up.

"You charge like that, and I can see you coming, so try again." So Nathan narrowed his eyebrows and tried again, but each of his punches were either stopped by Charles or dodged, and each time Charles managed to get one in.

"Nathan, what is holding you back? Something is...uh, well whatever it is, it's holding you back and you need to let it go." Charles looked over Nathan, watching the other man breathe hard, having already broke into a sweat, the look of anger crossing over his features. Subconsciously, Charles swallowed hard, and found himself unable to look at Nathan in this particular state for too long. He took his eyes off Nathan for a moment to get his water bottle, and it was then that Nathan caught him by surprise and decked him in his right side.

"_Fuck!_" Charles hissed, and stood up with his left hand crossing over to hold his side, the punch having made contact with a bruise that had not quite healed over yet, "If you want to do this, you...have to fight fair."

"Fight fair?" Nathan laughed, his tone harsh, "Are you shitting me? You're fucking kidding me right? Fucking _fight fair_?" He threw another punch and this one also landed on Charles, getting his side in the exact same place, getting Charles visibly angry. "You tell me to fucking fight fair when nothing...no!"

It evolved into a fight of verbal and physical, and Charles soon found he was getting quite the workout against Nathan, and if Nathan wasn't holding back anymore, Charles wasn't going to either. "What are you trying to say, huh?" Charles called out as he dodged and countered, pushing Nathan away.

"You have some fucking nerve," Nathan growled, not willing to give up the fight, not willing to lose to a man he was conflicted towards. It was evident in the way he moved, and the way he came at Charles, "You don't fucking play dead, you don't fucking get to do that!" The anger was in his voice, the frustration, all of that seemed to be pushing Nathan and Charles found himself actually struggling to defend himself physically, if not verbally as well.

"And you don't get to tell me what to do, Nathan! You have no idea what I fucking do for _you_," Charles bellowed back, the words sharp on his tongue, his own frustrations coming through. The men dissolved into fighting more, no longer a fight between friends or even in a trainer/trainee relationship, but in the stance of two people who couldn't figure out where the other stood. It suddenly became about defending their own point of view, their own anger, and nothing was getting resolved. Punches were thrown and dodged, and when Charles saw an in, he took it.

He moved as he had the first night Nathan came to see him, and moved to pin Nathan's arms behind his back, but instead Nathan surprised Charles and flipped him onto his back on the floor. Nathan stood over Charles, panting, as Charles looked up, beaten and worn out, just as out of breath as Nathan was. Still, Charles couldn't stop staring at the man standing above him, and in that moment wished he could read his mind.

Instead, Nathan held out his hand to help Charles up, and Charles took it, standing up on his feet and finding himself inches away from Nathan. "Thanks," he said, and upon realizing he was still holding onto Nathan's hand, he let go. He stepped back, but was surprised when Nathan grabbed his arm once more.

"I'm not done." He said, and Charles braced himself for round two, braced himself for yet more anger his way, but what happened surprised him.

Instead of a fight, it was the complete opposite.

Nathan grabbed Charles, and kissed him.


	8. Chapter 8

Klokateer #466 tried his best not to run down the hallway, but this was a matter that only one person could handle – when it was a PR nightmare like this was becoming, there was only one person in all of Mordhaus that could handle it, and for the first time that said person was not in his office.

466 had searched every area that he could think of before he thought of asking one of the other Lords (and he didn't want to seem incompetent to his Lords; that would certainly mean death. Or at least relocation into the online division, and that wasn't very interesting – and he wasn't a woman). Taking a chance, he briskly walked down the hallway with his notebook in his hand and went to the one other place he felt Master Ofdensen would be at such an hour.

"Sire, there is an urgent matter that needs your atten –" 466 proclaimed, practically out of breath as he entered the gym to find a most peculiar situation. He quickly looked away, not sure what exactly he saw, and quickly apologized for whatever he walked into, "Sire, I apologize but I—"

466 was cut off by Master Ofdensen, who cleared his throat and looked over to 466. "What is it?"

"Sire, I apologize but Lord Murderface has started a twitter war with the prince of—"

The exasperated groan that came out of Master Ofdensen was not one that 466 was used to, and he cleared his throat. "Sire?"

"I'll handle it." It was all that 466 needed to hear, and he quickly left the gym, not sure what two of his Lords were doing, but he was certain it was none of his business. Besides, he liked his job and he liked breathing. He'd like to continue to do both if at all possible.

_"Sire, there is an urgent matter that needs your atten –"_. It was at this phrase that the kiss broke, and Charles and Nathan's eyes met for a moment, both wide-eyed before Charles took a step back and cleared his throat, turning to his personal assistant. Sometimes, Charles forgot that his life was just a non-stop job, even when he was sparring with someone who was technically his employer in the gym, and when their sparring ended like… "What is it?" Charles' voice was strong and calm, collected and almost cold, as if nothing transpired moments before, despite the fact that he was covered in sweat from the sparing with Nathan, and there was a slight color to his cheeks. He was good at switching on a different persona, especially around those who didn't get under his skin.

His personal assistant stammered a bit over his words, and Charles made a mental note to make sure his assistant knew where his loyalty was – it was so hard to keep a good assistant around lately, and 466 was the best one yet – and waited for the man to get to the point, but before he could get to that, Charles groaned in annoyance and pinched his brow. "I'll handle it."

Those three words, and in that tone, was the cue for his assistant to leave, and that was exactly what happened as the Klokateer ran down the hallway. Charles gathered his things he had brought with him into the gym, and looked over to Nathan, swallowing hard for a moment. His head was swimming, but that wasn't important right now, and the business side was starting to take over. "I, ah…I need to take care of this." He said, trying to make a potentially awkward exit less awkward, but Nathan just shrugged him off.

"Yeah, I'll talk to you later. Good luck with that."

Charles looked confused for a moment, looking over Nathan who had gone over to the weights to lift, and opened his mouth to say something, but opted against it.

He left the gym and headed down the hallway, pausing for a moment to look back towards the gym door, considering just going back in and deciding for the first time in his life that work could come second, but it didn't happen that way.

He didn't go back in, and Nathan didn't come after him.

It took a lot of PR spinning, a lot of phone calls, a lot of threatening (because apparently you _could_ sue the internet if you knew the right people), and taking away Murderface's phone and wiping it clean, but the situation was resolved. It had taken Charles into the early morning to finish it, and by then either everyone was starting to work, or in the case of the boys, were heading to bed.

Charles didn't have the option of sleep, and he didn't have the option of being still at all. Not moving would mean he could allow himself a moment to think about what happened, and that was dangerous.

Still in his gym clothes (as there was no time to change when there was a public relations nightmare occurring), he finally pushed away from his desk, not realizing how sore he was until he stood up. It had ended up being quite the workout, with a very unexpected end, and Charles wasn't sure how to wrap his mind around it.

Making his way to his bedroom, he stripped of his clothes and put them in a basket near by as he walked into the bathroom to get into the shower. He hoped it would wake him up, but also hoped it would help to clear his head. The biggest problem though was that Charles was a person whose mind was always working. It was always ticking, it was always looking for a new problem to solve, a new solution to a situation, anything to keep it going.

He certainly had a new situation on his hands. Or on his lips, as it were.

Stepping into the shower, he leaned against the wall, his fingers moving over where Nathan had landed a good punch here and there, the bruise starting to be larger than it was days before. It was tender to touch, and he winced slightly when he did it, but the wincing caused him to laugh.

What else could he do? He had gone into the gym to work out his frustrations, and found himself more frustrated now than when he had walked in. Fighting with Nathan caused him to get his walls down, the two of them seemingly trying to fight against whatever was holding them back, and once that was gone all that was left was the two of them. Fighting, yelling, punching, doing anything and everything to physically prove their point.

And then he was caught by surprise and thrown to the ground. Then he was helped up by a hand that practically dwarfed his own. Then he was pulled into a rough kiss.

And he had returned said kiss.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. It had been one thing for him to try to hide his true motivation. It had been another to be taken by surprise by said motivations.

The shower got colder and lasted longer than intended.

It wasn't until around 10PM that night that his exhaustion hit him once more, and he was struggling to keep focused on his work and not on the ghost feeling on his lips. This wasn't…well it wasn't…he couldn't find the right word. For someone who never seemed to be without the correct word, always using the English language to spin things his way, he seemed terribly tongue tied. There had been such anger behind Nathan's voice and actions while they were in the gym, and there had been almost a feeling of abandonment that Charles couldn't shake.

It still didn't explain the kiss though, and it didn't explain why it happened.

It was time to figure out why.

It was oddly quiet around as Charles walked through the halls, assuming that the boys had gone out for the night (which wasn't exactly out of the ordinary), and after he looked around and found no one but the Klokateers working away, he headed down to the kitchen. Jean-Pierre seemed to be the only one around, but instead of immediately asking Charles what he wanted, instead he just continued planning the meals for the next day, as Charles fended for himself. There was an understanding between the two of them, Charles preferred to make his own meals at night, and it saved Jean-Pierre time to perfect whatever the hell the boys requested for the following day.

Sandwich and beer made, he settled down at the kitchen table and picked up the newspaper that rested there – more news about Dethklok and their upcoming album, rumors of what the guys were doing, financial news – Charles ended up giving the paper his full attention that he didn't notice when someone else sat down at the table with him.

"Shouldn't you already know all that shit? I mean, you're the one who puts all that stuff out there, right?"

Charles glanced up, looking over towards Nathan, who had sat down next to him with a bag of chips, over the rim of his glasses. "I don't write everything, I don't own the newspapers. Though…ah, well I suppose I could. I _should_ at this point, it'd make my job easier." He said with a shrug, trying to ignore how he suddenly felt like his tie had gotten tighter around his neck.

The newspaper was folded up and placed back on the table, and he took a long drink from his beer as Nathan spoke, "What else would make your job easier? You're just the manager."

Charles sighed, amused, "Just the mana…ah, okay."

"Well, other than a good fighter. You bruised me."

"I did? Well then."

"You also didn't let me finish."

An eyebrow was raised. That sentence sounded a lot worse in his head than he was sure Nathan intended it to. "What exactly were you trying to finish?" And that sounded almost as bad.

"I wanted to say something." The front man shrugged, and popped a few chips in his mouth.

Charles looked at him expectantly, and, when Nathan didn't continue, he asked, "And what exactly was that _something_?"

"Why are you back?"

With furrowed brows, Charles leaned forward slightly, as if he was going to get up from the table. "You already asked me that."

Nathan crumpled up the chip bag and tossed it on the table, "You didn't answer."

"I'm aware."

"Well, I guess you _did_ answer. In a way." Nathan said, a smirk curling on his lips, and Charles couldn't remember a time when he had seen that look before. This had to be a first. There were a lot of firsts. Like the feeling that he was choking on the air around him, yeah, that was a first.

He loosened his tie a bit, "In a way?"

"You said that I have no idea what you do for me."

Charles' eyes dropped to the newspaper again, "Alright."

"Alright?"

"I am well aware of what I said, Nathan. It was the heat of the moment."

Nathan laughed. "Fine". He shifted in his seat before he slammed his hands on the table, deciding his next move, "Listen, I'm fucking bored, and you're going to watch a movie with me. Get up."

As much as Charles wanted to admit that he was surprised at Nathan's sudden change of topic, he really wasn't. While Charles was good at communicating professional matters, personal matters were a completely different situation. Something he figured he had in common with the other man. "Uh…alright. What are we watching?"

Nathan stood up and started walking out of the kitchen, "I'm thinking Tarantino. Kill Bill?"

Deciding that he wasn't going to get anywhere else without following Nathan, and his curiosity getting the better of him (as well as other motives he wasn't ready to come to terms with), Charles stood up and followed, grabbing his beer on the way. "Yeah, that works. Sword fighting is pretty close to the real thing in that one."

"What makes you say that?" Nathan grabbed a bottle of rum on the way out of the kitchen, and fell in step with Charles, walking along with him in the hallway.

Charles just grinned.

"Experience."


	9. Chapter 9

Somehow, despite the fact that Nathan had suggested the movie, they ended up in Charles' living quarters, sitting on his couch, drinking what alcohol was left from their previous nightly meetings. After an hour, Charles had lost his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and his shoes were across the room. On Nathan's end, the only thing he had lost was his shoes, but there were plenty of empty glasses around them. A bottle of rum was shared between them.

To say that they were drunk was an understatement.

"You can't fucking fight like that! Fuck, that fucking chick, she's fucking _brutal_, you can't sit there and say you'd fucking kick her ass! She'd cut your damn dick off!" Nathan was laughing as Charles was trying to protest the fact that if he fought Uma Thurman, he'd certainly win.

"You…you don't know!" Charles slurred, eyes narrowed as he looked over to Nathan, "I'm pretty damn good with a sword." Though, the point wasn't proven so well when Charles gestured with his hand as if he had a sword and knocked over a bottle. This only caused Nathan to laugh harder.

"_Bullshit_! You can't even hold your fucking arm straight!"

"I fenced in college!"

"That's not with a fucking Samurai sword! Do you even…what the fuck is _fencing_?"

"When I am sober, I will show you. I know we have them around here somewhere."

"We do? Nice. _Wait_. What other weapons we got?" Nathan asked, and Charles didn't notice his arm had shifted behind the couch.

Charles laughed, "No." He grabbed the bottle of rum between them and took a drink from it, "You don't get to see them, you'll end up cutting off Pickles' arm or something."

"No I…would. I would. It'd be fucking brutal though, then he could have a robot arm."

"I'm, ah, pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate that."

If Charles was sober, he would have realized that they weren't watching the movie anymore and they were focusing more on the conversation between each other and nothing more. Instead, he was too caught up in talking with Nathan, because he couldn't remember the last time they did this.

Well, that was a lie. It was right before he was shot with the arrow, it was right before the album release, and it was right before he faked his death and left for nine months.

If that wasn't a sobering thought, he didn't know what else was. He frowned, his features suddenly changing while Nathan was talking about turning Pickles into half a robot, and Nathan stopped mid sentence and looked at Charles with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh…you going to pass out?"

Charles shook his head, and the room spun slightly. "No. No, I'm good." Pause. "I need to ask you something." He took another drink from the bottle and handed it to Nathan. "Why…"

Nathan cut him off. "No, me…first." He drank what was left of the bottle and tossed it to the floor and shifted on the couch. "How many scars do you have?"

Charles was visibly taken aback from the question and tried to laugh it off, "I have the one on my cheek, but that's –"

"That's not it. I saw them. When you came back."

Clearing his throat, Charles sat up a little straighter, and tried to stay focused but that was hard when he was this drunk. "I know. I…I, uh…remember. I saw you."

"So how many scars do you have?"

There was a long silence and Charles diverted his eyes from Nathan for a moment. "Depends on where you're looking, but I have a lot. Some are from college. Some are from my past job –"

"What, you were in the army or some shit?"

"…you...could say that if you wanted."

Nathan leaned forward, inches away from Charles' face, and pressed his finger to Charles' scar on his left cheek. "I want to know about the recent ones."

"You know where I got that one." Charles kept his eyes focused on Nathan, but unbuttoned the top of his shirt a little more, to pull back and show the scar tissue from where he was shot with the arrow. "You know where I got this one."

He started to button up his shirt again but Nathan grabbed his wrist. "No." The grasp was strong but loosened after a minute. "I want to see them."

Despite his better judgment, and perhaps because he was drunk and unwilling to think logically, Charles just nodded his head. He pushed off the couch, standing up and leaning against the edge of the couch to keep his balance, and managed to unbutton his shirt once he could focus enough. He didn't take the shirt off but instead let it hang open. The bruises from his fight with Nathan were still fresh, but the last cut he had gotten before returning had almost healed up. The arrow scar was easier to see now, and various cuts, faded bruises, and scars littered his chest like a road map.

Nathan stared at him, and Charles felt strange being the object he was staring at, and started to feel a little too open. Nathan didn't need to see this, and it was killing Charles' buzz.

He fell back onto the couch, sinking into his seat as he looked at the movie still playing instead of Nathan, who was still way too interested in Charles' battle wounds.

Charles could feel Nathan's eyes on him still and he turned towards him, "Anytime you want to stop that, it uh, would be great."

Nathan just stared at him, and said nothing. Maybe it was because he was drunk, maybe it was because there wasn't anything to say, or maybe it was that Nathan was taking a longer time to try to figure out what he wanted to say, but Charles was feeling strange. He wanted to scream, he wanted to do something but he didn't know what.

"My turn," he finally said, shifting on the couch, "Why did you-"

Again he was cut off. "I'm not done," Nathan growled.

"Then what do you want from me?" Charles asked, frustrated, feeling like he was the one getting the short stick in this situation. "You...what do you want, Nathan?"

"I want to know why you came back."

"I already-"

"No. I want to know why you came back," Nathan's voice rising in anger, "What those reasons were. Why you...came back to-"

"_No_, Nathan," Charles said, narrowing his eyes in frustration and the movement caused the room to spin slightly. "You don't get to ask the questions anymore." He looked around for more alcohol, but it was gone, in broken bottles on the floor and maybe he didn't need anymore than he already had. "You have to answer my question now."

Nathan stared at Charles. He had to know what was coming, Charles thought. Nathan wasn't stupid, not by a long shot - despite sometimes doing stupid things.

"Why did you kiss me." It was more of a statement than a question, and Charles' tone was shaky but calm.

"Why not?"

_Why not?_ "If you can't give me a real answer then...we are done here." Drunk or not, Charles knew when he was facing a lost cause. He was as horrible with actual emotions as the front man was, but at least he could formulate a thought when it counted. Drunk or not, he needed answers.

Still, it was clear Nathan wanted to say something, but that he couldn't figure out how. Was it that he was trying to keep his ego in check? If that was the case, it was a poor one.

"Because I knew that you were still alive. And I wanted proof." The front man looked away, clearing this throat with a cough, clearly becoming uncomfortable with their conversation, most likely at how un-metal the whole situation had become. Not that it ever had been metal to begin with.

_He wanted proof?_ Charles raised an eyebrow, and his facial features softened. "How does...ah, how does kissing me give you proof, exactly?"

Nathan shrugged, his eyes slightly closed thanks to his drunken state and he brought his attention to Charles. "I don't know, to see if I…" He let his voice trail off, because there were some things you just couldn't admit. Not even to yourself. Saying out loud would be dangerous, and Charles knew where he was coming. It was one thing to know you felt something, it was another reason to admit it, to verbalize it and let it just hang out there in the open.

So instead of forcing Nathan to say it, Charles, in his drunken state, decided taking action would end up serving them better. Almost mirroring how Nathan had grabbed him and pulled him in before, Charles did the same, grabbing the larger man's wrist and pulling him towards him, crashing his own lips against his in a rough kiss.

It was a little sloppy, thanks to their drunken states, and it was a little unorganized, but there was no one to interrupt them this time. Nathan's hands had reached out, grabbing the edges of Charles' collar and pulled on them, in an attempt to make sure the manager wouldn't go anywhere - not that Charles had any intention of doing so.

They were fumbling, not sure of where to go from here - seemingly new territory for both of them - but they at least knew that there was something there they really couldn't deny any longer. Charles, unable to help himself, groaned into the kiss, which caused Nathan to kiss Charles harder. The pesky feeling of losing air finally came up, and the kiss broke hastily, both of them looking at each other as if they didn't know what to do next.

Eventually, Nathan laughed, "We need a drink, _fuck_." He got off the couch, heading over to Charles' liquor cabinet as Charles watched him from his seat. Charles swallowed hard as he watched Nathan walk around, his arousal fully visible, and once more Charles reacted without thinking.

He seemed to be losing himself around Nathan quite frequently lately, and Charles was too drunk to know if that was a good thing or not.

Getting off the couch, he walked over to Nathan, who had a fresh bottle of rum in his hand and had turned around to head back. Charles roughly shoved him against a wall, causing Nathan to drop the bottle, and it shattered on the floor into little pieces of glass, and the alcohol spilled everywhere. They were back to kissing, but it was far rougher than before, as Nathan pushed himself off the wall and pushed Charles towards another one, Charles slamming his back hard against the wall closest to his bedroom door.

"_Fuck_," Charles hissed, the kiss breaking the second he made contact with the wall, and he grabbed Nathan by his belt and pulled him into his bedroom, and kicked the door shut behind them.

He couldn't remember when he ended up passing out, but when Charles woke up, naked and face down on the bed, he was thankful he could at least remember everything else that had happened.

The reminder was still in bed next to him, grinning like a damn fool. "Hey."

"Hey." Charles replied, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as his head pounded. "What time is it?"

"Fuck if I know, you keep a clock around here?" Nathan's voice was rougher than usual, and Charles opened his eyes as he looked over towards him, just as naked as Charles was, under the sheets with him.

He hadn't left. Maybe that was a good sign.

"Well, I have work I, ah, have to do if…" Charles tried to get up but the room started to spin again and he groaned, burying his head in the pillow. Work wasn't going to happen. Not right now. Though he didn't actually want to leave his bedroom, not while Nathan was still here.

Nathan was laughing, mostly likely at Charles, and Charles just raised his hand and flipped him off, which only caused Nathan to laugh harder. Charles mumbled something into his pillow that Nathan couldn't hear, so the front man poked Charles' side, just missing his bruise.

"What's that, Ofdensen?"

Charles turned his head to the side and looked over to Nathan, "Fuck you."

"That's already checked off the list. Next?"

This caused Charles to laugh, and he shifted on his back, "Yeah, I guess you're...ah, correct on that."

There was a silence between them, but it didn't feel awkward. It didn't feel out of place, it felt comfortable.

That alone should have been a warning sign, but Charles wasn't listening to any of those right now.

"I wouldn't mind that...again." Nathan said, sliding down back onto the pillow behind him and shrugged, looking at Charles. He watched as Charles' lips curled into a small smile, and the other man nodded.

"Ah, yes." Charles nodded once more for extra measure, "Same here."

There was another silence before Nathan rested his head on Charles's shoulder. "You tell anyone that I cuddle, and I'll fucking kill you." Charles could feel Nathan's slowly growing grin on his skin.

"You can try," the CFO said, laughing, "You can _try_."


	10. Chapter 10

When Charles Ofdensen was growing up, there were a few things he had to learn the hard way.

One: Never let your guard down. He had let it down once, fully allowed someone to get under his skin when he was younger, only to be beaten and left bloody in an alleyway when he was a teenager. He had been called weak. He had been called a pussy, a fag, they were all the names in the book children were supposed to be taught not to say. But when you're lying in an alleyway, curled up in the fetal position in your own blood and piss, you tend not to feel _anything_ other than weak.

At age 14, young Charles had decided that he couldn't be so trusting anymore. He couldn't be weak. At age 16, he started to actively go to the gym more, and by age 18 he had enlisted in the army. By age 24, he had left the Army a hardened man for reasons he never mentioned again, making sure to keep his contacts just in case.

Two: Never show someone else your true motives. Once he had gotten out of the Army, he was able to continue his education (thanks to military money and the courses he took while in the Army), and by age 25, had gotten his Masters in Finance. He had decided that if he was going to no longer be weak, as he had been when he was younger, he had to hide in plain sight. Make himself blend in. So his first job, it was easy to get into. He was a good accountant, and that was that.

So when he was given a folder from an unknown source claiming that the CEO of the company was an old acquaintance of his, Charles knew what he had to do. By his second year of working for the company, it was the CEO who was now lying in the alleyway, curled into a whimpering ball of limbs, finally realizing that he was being punished for the acts he had done as a teenager, by the same teenager the CEO had beaten up.

The CEO resigned and appointed Charles his successor, and Charles Ofdensen was suddenly the fastest climbing businessman in the country. The world was his oyster. All he had to do was exact revenge to get it. No one saw it coming.

Three: Trust your instincts. As he aged, the regular business world had started to get boring. He was good at it, and he had countless contacts throughout the world, but there was only so much he could do running an accounting firm. He left to start a new career, and when he heard a local band play one night shortly after he resigned, he knew what he wanted to do. Something was pulling him towards the young men on stage, and going into music management wasn't something he was particularly familiar with, but he'd make do. He was a fast learner. It helped he was a fan of the band.

Making a very calculated move on his part, he bought the band drinks and convinced them that if they were going to live up to the potential that he saw in them, they'd need a manager to help them along the way. It might have been tricking them slightly on his part, but Charles always knew a good opportunity when he saw it, and Dethklok - as risky of a chance that it was - seemed to be that opportunity he was waiting for.

Turns out, he was right.

Four: At the end of the day, work is what keeps this world going. The years Charles spent working for Dethklok really proved to be the best work of his entire life. He had never had to work so hard to make sure things ran smoothly, and while that would have been torture for most people, for him it was _fun_. He grew attached to the band, attached to the life he lived, and attached to being in the position that he was in. He went from Manager to CFO, to everything else that the boys needed him to be.

In a way, it was like the family he never had. He would do anything for the boys, and he had. He disposed of another manager trying to get in the way. He destroyed anyone who tried to download music illegally. He wasn't above cold and calculated brutality, because he would protect his boys at all cost, and no one was allowed to fuck with his bread and butter. He would die for them.

Or, in his case, have his soul separated from his body for them. Disappear for nine months and follow around the military for them. Discover a prophecy that he was destined to help see through for them. Come back just in time to save their careers, and fix everything that they had messed up while he was gone.

What he had never expected, was that once he came back to Dethklok and to Mordhaus, that the things that he learned and lived by were no longer applicable.

Because with Nathan, he had let his guard down completely, which was something he never allowed himself to do before. Following their first night together, it had become a well-kept secret, and only Charles' personal assistant knew about it (simply to help keep things organized and hidden), and even he didn't know fully what was going on. In the month that followed, it wasn't unusual to see Nathan go into Charles' office at night for 'meetings' and not leave until the early morning. Sure, the guys joked and teased Nathan about it, but the teasing usually stopped once Charles got them to focus on something else – or tried to, their attention span had never been good to begin with.

The other issue was that as the month went on, Charles started to subconsciously show his true motives when it came to Nathan. He got more protective over him, so when the comedian at Toki's birthday roast in Tokyo called Nathan "Tonto", and Charles saw the reaction that it got from the front man, Charles quickly acted and had the comedian taken out. It was part of the act, people were later told, because they didn't need to know the truth that you didn't want to fuck with anyone that Charles Foster Ofdensen was close to.

His instincts though, those he still held onto. They were as quick and as sharp as they had always been, but now they were clouded with judgment. When Charles noticed warning signs before when it came to his personal life, he usually obeyed them. This was no longer the case when it came to Nathan. There had been no real agreement on their parts on what was going on, but all Charles knew is that they saw a lot of each other, that he woke up each morning with Nathan asleep next to him in his bed, and by the time he got out of the shower in the morning, Nathan was gone. They'd go about their days, and eventually would find their way back to each other that night. It worked. There was no reason to fix something that wasn't broken. The problem was that the warning signs he should have been paying attention to were being ignored because of his involvement with Dethklok's lead singer, and he didn't realize it. His work was not suffering, but his personal character was.

But with his work not suffering, there was still one thing that was standing true in his code. Work was what kept life moving. It was what kept Charles going from day to day, and it was what gave the boys the life that they had. He had to keep them on task, because he worried what the prophecy would mean if it happened, when it started. He had his part to play, but the problem was that he was having doubts. He had things to live for. He had things in life he needed to see through to the end.

Life had to progress as normal though, because Ishnifus warned him that things needed to play out on their own. So Charles booked shows, including a huge upcoming international one, scheduled interviews, kept himself booked throughout the day, and kept the boys focused. Life went on, because it had to. He couldn't change the prophecy, but he could continue working.

He could continue living his life as _he_ wanted to.

And he could continue to spend each night in the arms of someone he was getting dangerously close to.

He just didn't know the dire consequences that would have.

Dead men weren't supposed to love.


	11. Chapter 11

Somewhere along the way, Charles forgot what his priorities were. The worst part is that he didn't actually see it coming. He usually had a sixth sense about these things, knowing when the boys were in trouble (or acting out) on a moment's notice but he couldn't see what he was actually doing to himself. The more time he spent focusing on his own happiness, the more focus on the larger picture he was losing.

This had become evident when he received a message from the church asking to see him. He had missed a check in, and Ishnifus was worried. _What had stolen his focus?_ Charles knew the answer, but admitting to it was another thing completely.

So he returned his focus to work, and ended up losing some of what was making him happy in the process. It was, as always, about sacrifices.

They had only been casual before, Charles told himself, so Nathan couldn't _possibly_ care enough when Charles had to put his work ahead of him. Granted, Charles' work was about Nathan, but it almost seemed as if Nathan couldn't always see that.

A week had gone by when they'd only seen each other on a professional note, and Charles had become too focused on the upcoming concert in Israel to think of anything else. Yes, he wasn't sleeping as well, and when he did he was alone, but sometimes you had to make little sacrifices for the future especially if you wanted to be around to see it.

Apparently, Nathan didn't see it the way. Neither did the rest of them.

For the first time in years, Charles had started to wonder if his dedication to work was worth it. Was his recent alignment to the church worth it? What was so wrong with having what he wanted for once? He was business minded and driven, sure, but he had made a lot of personal sacrifices for that he had missed out on a lot. Those actions, well they could only take you so far.

Charles had sensed something was wrong, stopping in mid-conversation with his newest assistant, and had gone after the boys. Things seemed to be fine, despite the fact that he had to turn them down once more. Once the boys got back, sometime after training his new personal assistant (there had been two since 466, Charles hadn't bothered to explain his personal situation anymore) and the conversation with the UN (among other things that were far too embarrassing to have happen in front of world leaders), things made him realize that while he was angry, he might have been in the wrong.

Still, they left again, and he went out to get them.

He'd find them. He always had before, and this time it wasn't any different. Still, he felt guilty. Charles had chosen to work over hanging out with them, and they practically started World War III. He had shown disappointment in them for their actions, and they followed Nathan's lead to run away. It felt worse that it was Nathan's idea, as much as he tried to justify that it was just grown men acting like children (as they were wont to do now and again).

He had found them the second time in a week, and he had gotten them to play the show. He had fixed the issues thanks to a lot of creative thinking and a lot of money spent, but it was solved. Both countries were happy. The UN was happy. Hell, even _he_ was happy. Everything seemed to be aligning correctly. At least, professionally.

Charles couldn't say the same about personally. That he had failed on, and he was well aware of it.

It was on the plane back from their undisclosed location outside of the concert venues in Israel and Syria that Charles found himself alone with Nathan again for the first time in almost two weeks.

He was in a private room on the plane, going over the paperwork of the concerts, responding to emails from the UN thanking him for fixing the issue, and glancing over reports on other business ventures when he heard the door open and shut behind him.

Despite the room being relatively well lit, Charles could still see the large shadow looming, and the way his heart pounded against his chest, he knew who it was.

"Hey, I...you fixed it and that 3D thing was fucking awesome." Nathan's voice broke the silence in the room as he took a seat next to Charles. Home was still eight hours away.

Charles looked up from his computer and looked over to Nathan, nodding before shutting the top of the laptop down. "We got lucky." While his tone would have been professional and straight-forward had he been in the company of everyone else, Charles' tone was that of a man who was exhausted. He had let down his walls around Nathan, and as much as he hated to admit to it, he was starting to enjoy that.

Which is why he knew that it couldn't last.

"Yeah, well…" Nathan shrugged, his eyes focused on Charles. There was still a lot between them that wasn't cleared up. Like why Nathan felt the need to run away with the guys rather than just talk things out. Or why Charles had chosen recently to take care of work more and forget about the leaps he had made in his personal life. Or why they had avoided each other for a full two weeks now.

If either one of them had the right to express their thoughts, Charles might have admitted that he felt like he was getting too close, but he could work through that. He might have admitted that he hadn't been able to have something good in his life that was just his own, and he was scared he might lose it. Nathan might have admitted that he cared about Charles a little more than he was letting on, and while admitting that would have been the least metal thing he would have ever done in his life, he wouldn't have regretted a single second of it.

Charles and Nathan shared a look, similar to the one they had shared their first night together. "You can't, ah, run off without letting someone know where you've gone," Charles started, and while he was using a calm tone, his smile was giving him away.

Nathan shrugged, "You seemed to find us just fine. Do you have a GPS on me or something?" He started to smile as well, the tension between them starting to disappear.

"Yeah, I disguised it as a potato chip. You just made my life easier."

"Wait…really?"

Charles laughed, "Ah, no. No, not really." He shifted on the couch, as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and let it hang on the edge of his seat. "But honestly, I just, ah knew."

By now Nathan knew better than to ask, because he knew Charles wouldn't elaborate on it if it was true, and if it wasn't, there still wouldn't be an explanation. "Good." He grunted, not exactly sure why he was saying it, and the look on Charles' face showed the confusion, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Nathan's hand moved to the back of Charles' neck, and while Charles originally flinched out of reflex, he relaxed slightly when he felt Nathan's fingers move against the knots in his neck.

Nathan wasn't one to say he was sorry, and Charles wasn't expecting it, but he knew this was as close to an apology as he was going to get. It was good enough, and it would make due. After all, there was no third world war, and they were heading home.

Charles let his head hang down slightly, taking off his glasses and let them dangle between his fingers. He stayed quiet, muttering little approval sounds of the gesture, and when he felt lips on the back of his neck, his eyes flew open. A smile appeared on his lips.

He shifted to sit back up, though he ended up getting comfortable against Nathan, who ended up putting his arm around Charles. "I'm pretty sure you can't stay back here for the rest of the trip back, Nathan." Charles finally said, "What about –"

"Pickles has it covered." Nathan interrupted, "Besides, Murderface is…bitching about something on his phone, and Toki and Skwisgaar are…somewhere else." Nathan said quietly. It was a well-known fact the guitarists were rather close, and while Charles had always assumed something else was going on; it was hardly in his scope of business to ask. He had his own secrets to keep; he didn't need to go uncovering the secrets belonging to someone else.

"Alright." Charles sighed for a moment, exhausted but relieved that there wasn't a chance for interruption, at least for right now. "You do need to keep up appearances though. Be seen out with someone."

Nathan didn't say anything, he only groaned in frustration.

"The press doesn't stop working. I'll even let you pick who she is. As long as it's not another socialite." Charles turned his head and looked up at Nathan, who grinned.

"So, I get permission to find someone to make you jealous?"

Nathan's words caused Charles to open his eyes a little wider, as he sat up and shifted slightly away from Nathan so he could look at him better. "Jeal—ah, excuse me? Permission?"

"Yeah, you giving me permission to sleep around? That's _brutal_." Nathan's tone was teasing, and it was punctuated by the heavy laugh that followed.

"Ah, well Nathan that would imply that this was…" Charles raised an eyebrow towards the other man, "More than casual." He swallowed hard, his eyes locking with Nathan's as he tried to get a read on him. Charles hadn't been scared of a lot of things, but getting into anything serious with someone else had been something he had been scared of. He could never give himself fully to another person, because he was always too focused on work, advancing his career, or protecting someone else's livelihood instead of his own.

"Yeah. So do I get permission?"

Charles' lips pulled into a smirk, and his eyes narrowed slightly, a devious look on his face. His hand moved to the back of Nathan's head and entwined with his hair, "Permission to be seen with someone?" He said, "Sure. It's good for publicity." His hand pulled on the black hair slightly, tugging Nathan's head back a bit, as the rocker reached for the manager's tie and pulled on it, bringing Charles closer to him.

"But?" Nathan challenged, his tone matching Charles', both of them sharing the same look.

"You're not fucking anyone but me." Charles finally said, surprising himself in the process, but Nathan just grinned as he tugged on the tie, causing Charles to release the hold on Nathan's hair.

Nathan laughed, "_Fuck_, you need to talk like that more often," and used Charles' tie to pull him closer and kissed him hard.

It wasn't long before that tie came off, though nothing else did until they touched down at Mordhaus and ended up in Charles' bedroom.

_He's shot. _

_He falls from the sky and hits the ground hard, glasses half broken as his eyes focus on the man in front of him. Long silver hair, suit. The man looks familiar, but he can't place where he knows him from._

_The feeling starts in his chest, a tightening around his heart as the man's face starts to contort. The man's head bends to the right, almost to the point of being upside down, black coming out of his gaping mouth and his eyes glowing white._

_The pain gets worse, as he literally feels his soul being ripped from his body and his eyes burn red then black._

_His screams sound like a man on fire, and inhuman._

He shot up from bed, screaming on the top of his lungs, his hands over his heart, pulling for something that wasn't there. When a large hand fell on his shoulder, he reacted without thinking, and Charles hands were suddenly at Nathan's throat, straddling him naked, pupils fully dilated.

"What the fuck, Charles!" Nathan yelled at him, and it's the sound of his name that makes Charles get out of his trance, and he quickly moved away from Nathan to the edge of the bed, one hand over the center of his chest, breathing heavily. Nathan sat up more, looking over to Charles wide-eyed. "Fuck, fuck, what the fuck?"

Charles remained silent for a while, focusing on his breathing, reminding himself that he was past what happened, and once he could regain his full consciousness, he rested his head in his hands. He muttered something that Nathan didn't hear, and he felt Nathan shift on the bed.

"What?" Nathan sat up fully against the headboard, and Charles finally looked up at him, as he shifted back to the side of the bed he was on before he woke up.

"It was nothing. A dream."

"Hell of a fucking dream." Nathan said, sarcastically. "The fuck?"

"Listen, I'm sorry. It…was a nightmare, something from the past, and it's that. It's, ah, past. I'm sorry." Charles sat against the headboard, his shoulder brushing up against Nathan's and the men sat there for a moment, Charles focusing on his breathing, and Nathan found he was focusing on Charles' breathing too.

"Are you...?"

Charles was surprised by Nathan's concern, knowing what he was going to say and not needing to hear the rest of the sentence, and he just nodded. He just kept nodding and let himself slide off the headboard and into the bed until his head hit the pillow, turning on his side away from Nathan.

A minute later, he felt Nathan shift next to him, Nathan's arm around his waist as a means of comfort.

A few minutes after that, Charles heard Nathan's breathing still into a sleep pattern, and felt him shift in a more comfortable position against him.

Charles didn't close his eyes again that night.


	12. Chapter 12

Charles hadn't slept at all that night, so when the sun started to rise, he moved out of Nathan's grasp (as much as he didn't want to) and shifted out of the bed. He showered, he got dressed for the day, and as he finished putting on his tie he watched Nathan shift in bed. Charles felt guilty leaving bed so early, and honestly he'd give anything to just be able to stay in bed all day - especially when they had seemingly reconciled after their strange two to three week separation. Especially when Nathan, in his own way, told Charles he'd rather have something a little more serious.

But the nightmare had only brought back the horrors of what had happened to Charles, and it only reminded him that he had more important work to do. If he wanted a possible future of being able to stay in bed with the raven-haired man, he had to make sure there was something for them to look forward to.

He straightened his tie, pulled on his shoes and walked out his bedroom door, shutting it quietly behind him.

A typical work day would consist of Charles heading straight for his desk, checking his emails, and his newest assistant giving him breakfast prepared by Jean-Pierre - the only meal Charles would ever allow the chef to do, mostly because the chef insisted and Charles couldn't resist a good omelet. He'd have his coffee, most likely get on the phone with Japan or Italy depending on what day it was, and talk rapidly in their respective languages for an hour before sorting out the rest of the day and the news he had to bring to the band around 2.

There was usually a mess he had to clean up around 3, and his press releases would go out around 3:30 because at this point, he had a template for almost every possible issue that could come up. At 4 he'd head down to the main hall, giving a speech to the Klokateers or overseeing the new recruits before going to meet with the head of the Elite Klokateers, his own personal guard, around 4:30. That meeting would last until 6:30, as it usually involved combat training, with Charles personally leading the sessions. He couldn't guarantee the band's safety if the guards weren't as well trained as he was.

After 6:30, he'd finish up emails and paperwork, and anything else that needed his attention, and would work until he was done, until he fell asleep, or until Nathan came barging in demanding Charles to stop working: whichever came first.

Today, Charles walked out of his bedroom, past his desk, and into the hallway. He passed his assistant in the hallway, "Sire?"

"There's something that I need to attend to this morning. I will be in my office in two hours. Not a second later than that." Charles said, as he kept walking down the hallway and towards the elevator. He pressed both buttons at the same time, and disappeared into the elevator.

Moments later, the elevator doors opened and Charles walked down the long hallway, opening the door at the end and stepped inside.

The nightmare the night before served to remind Charles that there were still much bigger forces at play, and he had to find a balance of the good and the bad in his life. This, the Falconback Project, and the nine months he had disappeared, could be viewed as the bad - but unfortunately necessary now - part of his life.

The man Charles had kept hidden, Edgar, looked up from the screens he was hooked up to. Charles crossed his arms over his chest, "What do you have?"

With the renovations of Mordhaus finally completed, and Mordhaus finally back in its rightful spot on the Earth, things started to feel oddly _normal_. Of course, with the plan that Nathan be seen out with someone finally being put into fruition, Charles hadn't had much time to worry about who Nathan had actually picked out. He was focused on making sure their return to Earth ran smoothly, he was focused on figuring out their next plans, planning Klokikon, and anything else that needed his attention that once again he lost sight of Nathan.

Had he paid attention, he might have had the time to do a background check on Trindle and had her executed before she got too close to Nathan.

Instead, he was standing at the open door of the helicopter, watching the guys run on the roof of the convention center for the rope ladders he had let down from the helicopter. His arms were crossed, and he furrowed his brow, watching everything unfold: Nathan and the guys finally making it up to the helicopter, Trindle exploding herself, and as Charles turned around to walk back to the cockpit of the helicopter; he heard Nathan's freaked out screaming.

There was a commotion around Nathan, and Charles shut the door behind him just as he heard Pickles say "Is that her fuckin' face?!"

Charles couldn't help the smirk at that.

Back at Mordhaus, after reminding the guys that this is why you shouldn't date a fan, he went into his office. He took out his brandy, poured himself a glass, and loosened his tie. He let it rest around his neck as he tried to relax and get ready for a night of press releases and official statements. He'd have to write something acknowledging Trindle's involvement in the explosion at the convention, but that could and would come later.

Truth be told, he had gotten himself jealous over Nathan's involvement with Trindle, even if he told himself that he wasn't capable of feeling that. Things were no longer casual between him and Nathan, but he knew Nathan had to play the part.

What he didn't know was how well of a part the singer played. Judging by how obsessive Trindle was on the roof before she blew herself up, Charles had a sinking feeling there was more than he was being told about.

His jealousy over it, despite it being his suggestion to begin with, was something that was going to show him as weak. With Nathan already seeing more sides to Charles than the CFO was comfortable with, he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Charles started to draft up generic answers to the potential lawsuits they were bound to get on behalf of those who were killed in the explosion, getting as far as 'We apologize for' before the door slammed open and Nathan came storming in. "This is all your fault!"

Trying not to laugh at the strangeness of it all, Charles pressed his lips together and kept his eyes on his computer, and eventually said, "Alright."

"Hey! I'm fucking talking to you!" Nathan scowled, and slammed his hands down on Charles' desk, trying to get a reaction out of him, but Charles just continued to work. "Charles!"

Charles lifted a finger towards Nathan as if to tell him to hold on, and finished what he was doing before he leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his chin for a moment, his hand resting over his lips, before he finally spoke again, "What? You have my attention, Nathan."

The front man walked over to Charles and leaned against the desk, standing in front of him, and crossed his arms. "This was your fucking idea! She fucking _exploded_, and fucking cheated on me with…_me_!"

If Charles was being honest with himself, this whole situation was amusing and insulting at the same time. "Cheated on you?" Charles kept his tone calm as he continued, "What happened to this just being a ruse? Is there, ah, something you're not telling me, Nathan?" There was a knot in his stomach, and it frustrated him just how badly it bothered him. Nathan was right, this was _his_ idea, he had no real reason to be angry. Right?

Nathan shrugged his shoulders, and tried to backpedal a bit, his hair falling in front of his face, "You told me it had to be realistic."

"Yes, I did. In front of the _fans_. The _press_."

"She wouldn't have believed me if I didn't fuck her! I had to!" Nathan's arms uncrossed and he rested them on the side of the desk, "So this is your fault, because if I didn't have to do that, I wouldn't have gotten her fucking guts all over me or some shit."

Charles cleared his throat, and looked at Nathan, his expression blank. This caused Nathan to shift uncomfortably. It also caused him to continue to dig his own grave.

"If I hadn't gone along with what you said then, you know, I'd…not be in this situation…"

"You're not in any sort of situation, Nathan. I'm handling it, like I always do." Charles said, trying to curb the anger that was rising.

Nathan pushed his hair behind his ear, "You're fucking pissed at me, I can tell."

Frustrated, and showing it for the first time that night, Charles got up off his chair, grabbing his glass of brandy, and looked at Nathan. "Why would I be pissed at you? You're right, it was my, ah, well it was my idea." His tone hinted of sarcasm, and he started to show his annoyance more in his features. He took a drink from his glass, "It wasn't my idea for her to blow herself up, and it wasn't my idea for you to sleep with her, I seem to remember I very distinctly told you _not_ to do that." Charles shrugged, "But you're right, it's my fault."

Nathan had not seen the angry side of Charles since they had gotten back from their double-booked gigs months ago, and this caused the singer to flinch slightly. He wasn't the apologizing type. Charles knew this. So Charles wasn't going to ask for one.

"You know I don't do apologies but she was bad anyway. Thinking of you was the only thing that got me off." Nathan said, trying to make some progress with Charles in means of making amends, but it only caused Charles to fly off the edge.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Are you kidding me, Nathan?" Charles shook his head, looking at Nathan with bewilderment, and scoffed. "There is…you know, forget it. It's not important."

Nathan finally moved away from the desk and over to Charles, taking the glass out of his hand and putting it on the desk. "The fuck it's not important! You fucking attacked me in your fucking sleep, you don't tell me why, and then insist the plan for me to be with _someone else_ be carried out and you're fucking _angry_ with me?"

"I apologized for that! It was a nightmare, it happens." Charles exclaimed, trying his best not to get defensive, but found he wasn't getting anywhere fast. This wasn't going to win him any awards, but then again nothing Nathan was saying was winning him any points either.

They were, once again, two men who didn't exactly know how to express what they were thinking, and were struggling miserably in trying to do so.

"Either you fucking want…" Nathan trailed off, and gestured between the two of them, as if saying it would make it more real, "Or you fucking don't, but you don't fucking…what the fuck, Charles?"

"Nathan, you have _no_ idea what I have been through and no, I am not comfortable in telling you what happened, so you're going to have to drop it. I apologized for that night already, and I meant it. Also, I asked you not to sleep with her _before_ that happened, so you honestly have no right to blame any of this on me." Charles shoved Nathan away, his hand landing directly on his chest, "I wasn't the one telling you to put your fucking dick in her."

As Charles tried to walk away, Nathan grabbed his wrist, and Charles struggled against it, knowing fully he could get out of the grasp if he wanted to, but didn't make the full effort. "You're jealous." Nathan said, a grin starting to form on his lips, "Fucking Ofdensen is _jealous_!"

Charles narrowed his eyes, "Fine. I'm _jealous_, are you happy?"

"Yes." Nathan grinned wildly, and his grasp tightened on Charles' wrist, and pulled him closer, which Charles resisted. "I lied."

"You lied about what?" Charles' voice was angry now, and he wasn't sure he wanted to try to figure out what game Nathan was playing.

Nathan kept grinning and it was starting to annoy Charles, "I didn't fuck her. She wanted to. I drugged her instead with something from Pickles' stash, and let her pass out in my bed."

Charles resisted a little less now, but still kept a stern facial expression, "What?"

"I didn't fuck her. I didn't cheat on you with her."

That was a statement he didn't think he'd hear. Charles blinked a few times, his features starting to soften, "Then why did you come in here pissed off about it?"

"She exploded! Her face landed on me!" Nathan exclaimed, "It fucking freaked me out!"

"For someone who is around death a lot, that's…" Charles sighed, "That's funny." He looked at Nathan's hand still on his wrist and frowned, "Dammit."

Nathan followed his gaze and finally released his hold on Charles' wrist, "What?"

"I don't think I'm going to be able to get any more work done tonight."

"What makes you say that?"

Charles slowly grinned, "Get me a drink."


	13. Chapter 13

Things were good for a while, until they weren't.

That was the easiest way to describe it. Things were good for a while, until they weren't.

Looking back on it, he should have seen the signs, but they weren't jumping up and down in front of him and he was too focused on himself and how his life was to see that they, _all of them_, were very quickly spiraling down.

The worst part of it was that Charles was happy. He was happy, and while it was a sort of fucked up relationship that didn't quite make sense on paper, luckily it didn't need to. Employer and employee, manager and musician, it didn't matter what exactly the definition was, it just _was_. Charles used to put definitions on everything, but decided somewhere along the way that maybe not everything needed to be put in a specific place.

Maybe that was when things started to go wrong. He lost sight of what was important.

With what Charles was referring to as 'Trindlegate' in private conversation behind them, Nathan and Charles started to spend more time together. It started to become obvious when the guys would catch them having breakfast together in Charles' office, or getting dinner at the same time at night.

So when Pickles stopped by into Charles' office one day, Charles didn't think much of it. He didn't even look up from his paperwork until Pickles said, "So, you an' Nathan, eh?"

That got his attention, and Charles looked up, raising an eyebrow towards the drummer. "What?"

"You an' Nathan! I got eyes, ya know! Yer spendin' all that time together…." Pickles seemed pleased with himself, plopping himself down in the chair in front of Charles desk, and promptly drank from the bottle of Jack Daniels he was carrying around.

Charles crossed his arms, "Honestly, Pickles, I, ah, I don't know what you're—"

"Oh, and Toki walked in on you guys."

_Oh._ Charles hadn't dropped his façade around any of the guys other than Nathan, and even then he still had a bit of a wall up around him. But in a small moment, Charles' eyes widened slightly. The moment didn't last long, and he quickly recovered, though not before Pickles caught the look and laughed.

"Eh, don't worry, I ain't gonna say nothin'." Pickles took another drink and stood up, doing a drunken nod and awkward salute towards Charles and headed out of the office.

Charles sat there for a moment, completely dumbfounded and shocked, before narrowing his eyes.

He had to get those locks changed. Immediately.

There had been a shift in their dynamic, for the better, before the album was completed and shipped out across the sea. With most of the band knowing what was going on (and Murderface just complaining about how gross it was, despite the fact that he hadn't seen anything), it almost seemed easier. Better. Sure, Charles was still work-oriented during the day, but he didn't feel as there was so much to hide at night when he met up with Nathan. Things were good.

With the album shipping out that day, there wasn't much for Charles to do other than get the confirmation of the shipments being completed, and watch the reports coming in about the album's reception. While the rest of the guys were planning their vacations, Charles had planned one for himself.

Though it really wasn't much of a vacation, it was more business than pleasure. With the storm coming closer and closer to them, Charles knew he had to try to get out before the storm hit. With the album complete, he had to return to the Church, to figure out what the next plan was.

Because up until now, the plan was always to protect the boys and get the album completed.

These were all things that he did. Charles wasn't typically a man who awaited orders, not taking them too well in the Army and certainly not taking them too well outside of them, but recently the nightmares had gotten worse.

He woke up one night with a bloody nose, and another night he apparently had fallen asleep with his glasses on, and woke up with them smashed in his hand. While not every night was spent with Nathan, Charles was thankful that for some reason, the nightmares no longer happened when Nathan was with him. They now only seemed to happen when Charles was alone, unarmed, and vulnerable.

So it made sense that Charles took that as a sign to see what the next steps in the plan were.

That was until his assistant told him that any flights going out were grounded, his private plane was grounded, and so was any other plane any of the boys were going to take.

It felt strange to be in a position where he actually didn't have much work to do. It felt strange knowing (or at least thinking) he was alone in the house.

So he locked his office door and went to the fireplace in the far edge of the room, and pressed on the top left brick in the mantle, a small gear carved into it.

A door slid open next to the fireplace, revealing a secret room – yes, Charles had become more open, but there were still things he needed to keep to himself. Within this room, there was a chair, much like his chair in the command center, and three large screens in front of it. On the chair rested a remote.

With the door shut firmly behind him, he sat down, shrugging off his suit jacket, and flipped on the screens. The left one showed various smaller screens of news reports, all following the upcoming storm and the release of the album. The far right screen showed security feeds around the house. The middle screen stayed off.

Charles pressed a button on the remote and it flickered on, soon proving to be a video conference. Soon, Ishnifus showed on the screen. "Charles. I trust everything is running smoothly?"

"Yes," Charles replied, resting his chin on his right hand, his elbow resting on the arm rest. "I'd meet you in person but the storm has grounded me."

"I know. I had a feeling this would happen."

"Storms have a way of doing that."

"It was foreseen. It was prophesied." Ishnifus said, nodding, and Charles stared at the screen, raising an eyebrow. His eyes darted towards the screen with the news stations on it, talking about how big the storm was becoming, and then he looked to the other security cameras, with one screen on where the album's master was being held.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Charles questioned the priest, sitting up in his chair, his hands on the arm rests. Something didn't feel right. Something was off.

Ishnifus seemed to see this in the video call, "You seem nervous, my friend. You sense something is wrong, don't you."

"I demand you tell me what is going on."

"It is the wrong message." The man stated plainly, as the news stations started to report that ships carrying the latest Dethklok album were being destroyed by the storm.

Charles stood up, furious, "What are you doing? How are you doing this? Do you understand the financial error you just made? This could ruin everything!" He stared at the security screen, the master hadn't been touched yet, and hopefully it wouldn't be. They still had that, it was safe in Mordhaus. His mind started wandering, he could get the albums reprinted, he could…

"Charles." Ishnifus' voice sounded now as if he was in the same room as Charles, and he looked up to the screen where the man was still there. "You have lost sight. You have lost focus. Your actions have consequences."

"My _actions_? I have done everything you have asked of me! I swore my allegiance to you and the Church, you saved me, and I owe you."

"There was one thing that was asked of you that you did not follow." Ishnifus' voice got louder, and he disappeared from the screen, as the middle screen turned off. Charles, feeling as though something else was going to happen, turned around to see Ishnifus standing in front of him. "You did not keep your distance. You lost focus."

"How-" Charles stammered, but was stopped as Ishnifus held up his hand, his eyes glowing a soft white.

"It is not the right message," the Priest continued, lifting his hand to point to the security screen showing the master copy, and Nathan now sitting drunkenly in front of it, lost deep in thought.

No.

_No._

"I have to stop him; I won't let you do this!" Charles exclaimed, and stared at the Priest, considering this to be a betrayal. It didn't make sense. None of this made sense, but the Priest didn't care.

"It is already too late," he said, as Charles stared at the screen again, watching in horror as Nathan picked up the axe, Pickles struggling to stop him, "No!" Charles screamed out, anger behind his eyes, running towards the door. He had to stop this.

Ishnifus had other plans, as he appeared in front of Charles and held out his hand to stop him, "I am sorry my friend, this has to be done." He lowered his hand, "Now, rest."

Charles didn't have time to process, or to think. He was suddenly on the floor, hitting it hard and blacked out.

On the news screen behind him, reports were coming in that all the Dethklok albums were destroyed by the storm. On the security screen, Nathan finally dropped the axe onto the liquid master, destroying it, as Pickles looked on in shock.

When Charles finally came to, he had a killer of a headache. He groaned as he struggled to stand up, holding onto the chair for balance, He looked around to see that he was once more alone in the room.

Had he imagined that? Had he dreamed that the storm destroyed everything? Feeling weak, he found his way to the chair in the room, and sat down, looking over to the news screen. Stocks were plummeting; the economy seemed to be rapidly falling, reports of devastated fans across the world mourning the album. He hadn't imagined the storm, but had he imagined the master being destroyed?

The security screen was flickering, but the picture was clear. The album was destroyed.

Nothing had been imagined. It had all been real. And somehow, Ishnifus and the Church were behind this. Charles had once again witnessed unbelievable power from someone he hardly knew, and was being punished for it. While he lived his life now because he was brought back, living now as the Dead Man, he did not fully comprehend what that meant. He wasn't exactly dead, he was still breathing, he could still feel.

Ishnifus' words ran clear in his head, _You lost focus._ He lost focus? Charles' hands clenched into fists, he was never told what he was to be focused on! He looked into the FalconBack project, he got the information that they wanted and Edgar was working on sorting it all out. He had done what was asked of him. It didn't make sense.

The album was destroyed. There was no saying yet the real repercussions, but Charles knew it wasn't good.

Starting to feel a little more like himself, Charles stood up and got out of the room, adjusting the brick in the fireplace so the door would shut once more and he left his office, in search of the one person who might be able to give him some sort of insight: Nathan.

He found the singer in his bedroom, sitting at the foot of his bed, a bottle of whiskey hanging between his hands. He seemed to be staring at the floor.

Charles didn't knock; he just walked further into the room after shutting the door behind him and sat beside Nathan on his bed. Nathan handed him the whiskey and looked him over, "You look like you slept on the floor."

"Because I did. In a way." Charles took the bottle and drank from it, "You look like you're still drunk."

Nathan just grunted unhappily. He took the bottle from Charles and drank from it. "You ever feel like…you have to fucking do _something_, and you don't know why?" Nathan wasn't looking at Charles, but Charles didn't have to see his face to know what his expression was. "That…something just doesn't fucking feel right, and you just have to fucking fix it?"

"Ah, yes. Yes, I…know that feeling." Charles cleared his throat, and leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands held together, resting his chin on his hands.

"I feel like I'm fucking crazy, but it wasn't fucking right. The album, it wasn't fucking right."

"You believe that?" Charles asked, and Nathan looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"Are you fucking judging me too? It wasn't fucking right, okay, it wasn't fucking metal enough. I don't fucking expect you to understand," With his voice rising in anger and frustration, Nathan kept talking, "It just wasn't fucking right and—"

"Would you stop?" Charles cut him off, and put a hand on Nathan's shoulder, "I understand far more than you think I do. There are some things that are…" He paused, thinking of the night before, the strange occurrence, how he apparently had lost his focus. "That are, ah, out of our control. We're just…pawns."

"You mean like…dudes on strings or some shit?"

Charles chuckled, "Yeah. That."

They stayed silent for a bit, before Charles stood up, "Okay, I will leave you alone if—", and found Nathan had reached up to touch his arm, but his hand ended up slipping into Charles'.

"The other guys are pretty pissed off at me right now, do you…" He shrugged as he stood up, "I left some good booze in your bedroom two nights ago, think I could get that back?"

Charles looked down at their hands and nodded, "Yeah. Suppose you'd like a drinking partner."

"Only if you can keep up with me." Nathan moved his hand away but smiled as he walked towards his door, Charles following behind him.

Walking into Charles quarters, "I'll be there in a second," he nodded towards his room, as he walked over to his desk to see a stack of reports and lawsuit claims waiting for him. There was no point to taking a vacation now that everything had changed. People were suing them for the album being destroyed – though it wasn't obvious on first glance why they were suing, but Charles assumed it would happen.

So he grabbed a stack of papers, and locked his office door before he headed into his living quarters, where Nathan was already sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels. When the singer caught glance of the paperwork, he groaned. "That's not because of…"

Charles shrugged, "Doesn't matter. I'll handle it." He sat down next to Nathan, putting his papers on the table in front of him, and settled into the couch, taking the glass Nathan held out for him. "Thanks."

"Work, doesn't bother me." Nathan shrugged, one arm resting on the top of the couch, "I know that there is a lot—"

"Nathan. I'll handle it." Charles said, a little firmer, nodding. "It's okay. You just need to trust me."

Nathan shrugged, "Suppose, considering you could break my arm in half if I didn't."

There was a shared laugh, and the tension eased between them. Charles did some paperwork, resting against Nathan as he did so on the couch, and due to his position, he ended up falling asleep on Nathan's shoulder.

While he dozed off, he dreamed. It was a replay of the events of the night before, of Charles watching Nathan look at the album master. There was something in the way that Nathan looked, that Charles hadn't noticed the night before. When he woke up, it was to find Nathan had also passed out, holding tightly to Charles as if he was scared of being alone.

Was it possible that there was more to this prophecy than Charles had considered before? Was there more that he just wasn't allowing himself to see? Was it possible that his role was far larger than he was admitting to himself? Looking at Nathan, it was obvious that Charles wasn't the only new player in this. If it affected Nathan, then it affected the rest of the band. Charles was unable to see it coming; he was unable to see things happening, because he couldn't see past what he knew to be true.

In a way, he blamed himself, even if he wasn't to blame. He needed to open his eyes more to what was really going on, and he wasn't sure he was capable of that.

Just yesterday, things had been good. Until, suddenly, they weren't anymore.


	14. Chapter 14

Nathan didn't always understand everything that Charles said and well, he just accepted that. It was fine, really.

He accepted a lot of things. He accepted that there were a lot of nights now where Charles would wake up screaming, but Nathan learned by now not to touch Charles until he had fully woken up – being on the bad end of Charles' scared anger wasn't something Nathan would have recommended to anyone. While it took him about five times, on the sixth time that Charles' screaming woke him up, Nathan decided against touching the CFO.

It was a smart choice. But that didn't stop the fact that Charles was having a lot of nightmares, and they had seemed to be getting worse.

Not that Nathan's dreams had been any better. The damn whale, it made no sense, whales were not brutal other than the fact some of them were called 'killer whales', so why was he dreaming of it? After he destroyed the album, something in him told him that the 'dream whale' would go away but it still popped up now and again.

At least that stupid whale didn't make him wake up screaming fucking murder. And it didn't make his eyes go all black and scary. That…okay that had been brutal, but not the _good_ kind of brutal. The bad kind that made Nathan feel that other emotion he wasn't good at coming to terms with: worry.

Nathan had been watching Charles carefully ever since they spoke the day after the album was destroyed. Or, since Nathan had gone on his gut feeling and destroyed it. They didn't talk much about that night. To be honest, he didn't remember most of it. What he did remember was the day after: Pickles screaming at him, and Nathan feeling like he had a massive headache. Then the news got to the rest of the guys, and they were rightfully pissed. Murderface bitched and moaned, Skwisgaar complained that he had some of his best work on the album and now he'd have to re-do it, and Toki…well Toki didn't seem to care as much, as long as they got to make a new one. Pickles, who had told the guys, looked like he wanted to strangle Nathan.

When Charles had come into his bedroom that night, he thought that if anyone was going to lay down the law on him, it would be the person who cared about him the most. Or, the guy he was sleeping with. Not that they were supposed to care about each other. Which…Nathan tried to deny that he did, but he cared. A lot. Too much, maybe.

So when the manager came into the room and shut the door, Nathan had kept his eyes on the ground, his fingers loosely around the bottle in his hand because he was expecting a lashing. Instead, the man who sat next to him looked like shit, worried, and looked how Nathan _felt_. Which was weird.

That night, they had fallen asleep on the couch, but Charles had fallen asleep first. Nathan watched him, setting the bottle down on the table, careful not to move much as he didn't want to wake Charles up. The other man was stirring, almost shaking, and Nathan assumed he was stuck in another nightmare. He put his arm around Charles to hold him close, to hopefully somehow let the other man know that he was there. You know, for support.

Also, because Nathan had that strange feeling that he didn't want to be alone. He went with his instincts ninety-nine percent of the time, and his instincts told him that things weren't good. Not necessarily with the album, he knew _that_ was fucked up, but with Charles.

He had passed out, and when he woke up in the morning, he was alone on the couch, and Charles was nowhere to be found. So Nathan just moved into Charles' bedroom and decided to sleep on his bed.

Nathan hid out in Charles' quarters for about a week, and Charles didn't mind. They didn't talk much about what Charles was doing to fix things, and Nathan didn't talk about the songs he was having difficulty finishing. Nathan had been relieved that Charles still wanted him though, and still leaned on him from time to time, just to know he was there.

Still, Nathan had noticed a change. Sure, there weren't any more incidents of Charles waking up screaming, but that was because Charles just wasn't sleeping. Nathan figured the manager thought he didn't notice that Charles would just lie in bed next to Nathan, his eyes always looking at the ceiling once he thought Nathan was asleep. The manager's chest would still rise and fall in a slower pace as if he _was_ sleeping, but it seemed the man had gotten good at faking that.

Every now and again, Nathan would wake up in the middle of the night to find that Charles wasn't there, but he could hear his voice talking to someone. Sometimes, his tone would be calm, and other times it would sound as if Charles was in the middle of an argument – though the tone was only slightly changed from how he was normally. Nathan knew how to spot the difference. He could never hear the words though, only the tone of voice, muffled behind walls, as if Charles was in another room but still within his quarters at the same time.

One night, there was a crashing sound, and Nathan woke up and sat up in the bed to once again find Charles wasn't there. But there was more crashing, sounding like something hitting the wall, and his tone was angry. Not normal 'the band did something dumb I have to yell at them now' angry that Nathan knew all so well. It was screaming on the top of his lungs angry. Whatever was happening, Charles wasn't happy.

For the first time that night, he could hear another voice too, though Nathan couldn't pick it out.

He got out of Charles' bed and pulled his boxers on from the floor and walked towards the sound. Charles' voice was angry, he was clearly pissed off about something, and Nathan followed the sound the best that he could. It brought him back into Charles' office, where there was a lamp on at his desk, but Charles wasn't there.

The sounds stopped for a moment, and Nathan stood in the middle of Charles' empty office, an eyebrow raised, thinking he might have gone crazy before he heard Charles argue something again. It sounded like it was coming from…the fireplace? Well. That didn't fucking make sense. Right?

Still, he walked over to the fireplace, and while he saw a brick in the corner that was out of place slightly, he didn't think much of it. Charles could be heard a little clearer now and Nathan could make some of the words out: _You….not…I can't…it's not…refuse._ It was coming from behind the wall.

With his right hand lying flat against the wall, his ear close to it, Nathan struggled to hear what was going on. The last thing he heard was a little clearer, anger to Charles' voice but also something else: _Not again._ It sounded almost…sad? That didn't make sense.

His curiosity got the better of him, and Nathan raised his left hand to knock on the wall, until he heard footsteps. He moved out of the room, standing by the doorway in the shadow as he watched as the wall he was once at gave way and Charles walked out, wearing only his boxers. The look on Charles' face wasn't a good one. He looked exhausted, and he looked conflicted.

Nathan watched as Charles stepped fully out of what he assumed was a secret room, and pushed back the brick on the fireplace, the wall sliding back to its original position. Nathan heard Charles sigh as he put his fingers to his brow. Then Charles started to walk back towards the bedroom.

Trying his best to move quietly, Nathan quickly went back towards the bed, but ended up slamming his toe into the bed and cursed, "_Fuck_!"

"Uh, is everything okay?" Charles' concerned tone caused Nathan to make a face before he turned around.

"Yeah, hit my toe on the fucking bed coming back from getting water."

"Then where is it?"

"What?"

"Your water."

Nathan stammered, "Finished it." He shrugged as he looked at Charles, and moved back towards the bed, getting back in. Charles, while he looked at Nathan with a raised eyebrow, seemed to accept the answer.

Sitting up with his back against the headboard, Nathan waited for Charles to come and join him again, "Where'd you go?"

"Uh, business. I couldn't sleep, I thought I'd get some work done until I felt tired enough to come back." Charles looked Nathan in the eye when he said it, and Nathan felt a weird disappointment. He couldn't tell if he was lying or not, but something felt off.

"Okay." Nathan shrugged and shifted so his head would be on the pillow again, and Charles seemed to follow suit. His eyes fell on the scars, "Are you ever going to tell me about the other ones?"

Charles shifted his head and looked at Nathan, "I, ah, well I told you some of them. Remember?" Nathan watched as Charles took Nathan's hand, using Nathan's pointer finger to outline the scars on his chest. "This one was from the army," Charles said, outlining the one under his left bicep, "I got into a knife fight." The fingers moved to the large scar on Charles' side, "This one is fresh. I got it right before I came back. I had to fight a few guys to get backstage to you." Charles smirked, speaking with a quiet tone. Nathan just stared.

Whatever it was that was bothering Charles before, Nathan could tell he was trying to shake it off. Nathan moved his hand over his scar from the arrow, and rested his hand there. They both stared at each other for a long minute, before Charles pressed his lips against Nathan's, causing Nathan to wrap his arms around Charles and pull the other man on top of him.

If anything, they were good at distracting each other from talking about what they really wanted to talk about, and they were even better at avoiding sleep.

That next morning, to Nathan's surprise, Charles asked him to spend a lazy day with him. He couldn't say no to that, and was more than willing to waste the day away with Charles by his side. There was only one problem: It wasn't a brutal thing to admit that you were close to falling in love with your manager, but Nathan was one hundred percent sure that was what was happening, and it scared the shit out of him.


	15. Chapter 15

The fact that Charles had been having a lot of nightmares since the album was destroyed was enough to make him never want to sleep again. Sure, he dozed off for an hour or two, but it was never more than that. The dreams had been getting more prophetic, and it wasn't something that Charles really knew how to wrap his mind around.

So, he just came up with a better solution: don't go to sleep. It wasn't an easy task, but there were pills he could take to stay awake – though it felt a bit like he was trying to avoid Freddy Kruger with the eagerness in which he took the pills each night – and things worked out fine.

What was worse though was that he knew that he'd have to fool Nathan. While they had been close before, or as close as they allowed themselves to be, they had gotten closer after the album had been destroyed. It seemed that Nathan felt Charles could understand the strange feeling he had those things just hadn't been right, and Charles started to depend on Nathan as an anchor.

It was nice to have something to hold onto when he felt like he was sinking, but Charles felt horrible for keeping things from Nathan, more than he already was.

For a month after night of the storm, Charles had stopped sleeping and once Nathan had fallen asleep next to him, Charles would make sure that the front man was really dead asleep before he got out of the bed. He'd pull on his boxers and head into his office. Sometimes, he'd work on things for the band – a lot of that was in the first month, because with the economy declining, he had a lot of work to do. He had a lot of apologies to make, a lot of interviews and press conferences to talk about what they were doing to help fix things while the album was being worked on.

Again, he was lying through his teeth, because the album wasn't being worked on. At least, not as much as Charles was claiming it was.

So at night that first month, he'd work until he felt like he needed to get back into bed, usually right before sunrise, and would head back. Sometimes Nathan was spending the night, sometimes he wasn't, but more often than not Charles would be returning to bed to long black hair taking over a pillow.

It didn't take a genius to notice that Nathan was spending far more time with Charles now than he had before, and it didn't take a genius to notice that Charles was more than okay with this.

The second month, he'd work, but get restless with it. He could talk with vendors until his throat was sore, but it wasn't helping the sinking feeling he had deep in his chest. He had always believed that work was what kept the world moving, but with his priorities shifting so much, he wasn't sure if he believed that any longer.

There were still things that he didn't understand though, and he started to go into his secret room, trying to research more into the prophecy, or he'd go down to see Edgar to see if there was anything new on Falconback. After a few weeks, he demanded Edgar look into the prophecy too, only telling him what he needed to hear. It didn't feel good that they had to turn to their enemies, but Edgar seemed changed enough that Charles felt like he could trust him. Reluctantly.

Once a week, there would be a call from Ishnifus, and Charles would usually stay calm while they spoke. "There is so much you still do not see, my friend," Ishnifus would say, and Charles would sit with his arms crossed, "And there's a lot you don't see about _me_" would usually be Charles' reply.

The more they spoke though, the more Charles was starting to wonder if he really was standing in his own way. He was serving Dethklok and he was serving the Church of the Black Klok and he was being pulled in two different places.

Maybe that was also the reason why he couldn't sleep – there was no longer any time in the day for it. He was barely hanging on now as it was, and things were getting difficult to differentiate between now.

One night, he tried to sleep, but only got an hour before he woke up from a nightmare. It had been a blessing that he hadn't woken up Nathan this time with it. Charles sighed deeply as he moved off the bed, grabbed his glasses and pulled on his boxers, and headed towards the office.

Grabbing a bottle from the top of the fireplace, Charles took the top off and placed it on the mantle. The brick on the fireplace was pushed in and the wall gave way, and Charles stepped into the room. There was a call already waiting for him, and once the door shut securely behind him, he sat down in the only chair. A robe rested on the chair, and Charles pulled it on, wrapping it around himself tightly.

This was going to be a long night.

Charles accepted the video call, and found the familiar face of the priest starring back at him. "Yes?"

"Hello, my friend." Ishnifus was always pleasant and polite and Charles sometimes wished the man was a little more angry. More emotional. More…something that Charles could exploit. There had to be a corner of Hell for people who wanted to exploit others for their own use, but Charles already knew what Hell looked like and it didn't scare him.

"Hello." Charles said, as he took a drink from the bottle in his hand. He hadn't known what it was when he grabbed it. Now he knew it was tequila.

"Have you made any progress, do we know of their plans?"

"No, we don't. We're still working on it, and there are still parts that we can't figure out. We'll get it." Charles took another drink, as his eyes drifted from the video call screen to the security screens. The camera focused on his bed still showed Nathan sleeping. Sure, it was a little unorthodox to have something recording his bedroom, but the camera was only turned on when he was in the room. It was a matter of security.

It was also a matter of making sure nothing was happening to Nathan while he was gone. He had gotten a little obsessed with securing Nathan's safety more than the safety of his own. If something had happened, he would never forgive himself.

Ishnifus saw Charles' glance in the other direction, and called the man on it. "You cannot protect them forever, you know."

Charles brought his glance back to the video screen, "You saw what happened when I wasn't around."

"They made poor business decisions, yes, but my friend they are still alive."

"If something had happened…" Charles' hand gripped around the neck of the bottle a little tighter.

"But nothing did. My friend, one day you will wake up and it will be upon us. And you will be unprepared. You need to focus." Ishnifus said, and removed the hood from his robe as he spoke, "You will need to leave them. You will need to step aside and let the prophecy play out."

"The prophecy that you won't fully explain to me!" Charles said, his voice a little louder and angrier, "How can I let something play out if I have no idea what it is that I am allowing? What if you are leading them into death?" He pointed towards the security screen, though it was only focused on his bedroom, hallways, and empty rooms - though no bedrooms, he had promised the boys he wouldn't put cameras in there, and he stuck to his word. His own bedroom, well, that was a different question.

As he moved his free hand to point at the security screen, his hand swiped an old glass from the night before, and it went crashing to the ground. He didn't notice the sound had caused Nathan to shift in bed, as Charles' eyes were focused on the video screen.

"You are not ready to know it all, my friend, because you are making yourself blind to the truth." Ishnifus' voice remained calm, and while Charles was usually the same way, he was letting his anger get the better of him. So when the Priest said, "You need to step aside and let them go," Charles lost it.

He threw the bottle of tequila against the wall and stood up from the chair, "You have no idea what I have gone through for them. You have no idea what I would _do_ for them. So, no, you cannot ask me to do that. I can't leave them. It's not feasible, and it's not the right time. I absolutely _fucking refuse_."

The security camera focused on Nathan walking through Charles' office, but again Charles didn't noticed.

"Your anger and passion is good, but you must use it wisely. Right now you are letting it come between you and what is right. You are only making things worse; you are not protecting the ones you love." Ishnifus' tone was stronger now, and Charles stood in front of the video screen, his hands in fists. "The _one_ you love."

Charles' eyes closed, as he stayed silent for a moment. He was still fighting everything about this prophecy and the Church, because he knew what it would mean if he accepted it. The more he had gotten dependent on Nathan, the more that he had realized that there were stronger emotions at play now.

"I'm not leaving him." Charles said, quietly as his eyes opened up again, glance shifting to the security camera and Charles noticed that Nathan was hovering around the fireplace, his ear to the wall. Charles continued to watch the screen, eyes focused on Nathan. "Not again."

"One cannot serve two masters, Charles." Ishnifus said, and the screen went black.

Charles stood there for a moment, his hands still in fists, but slowly he let his fingers out and hung his hands by his side. He closed his eyes, for a moment and listened for movement outside the wall. When he heard shuffling, he sighed and opened his eyes, running a hand through his hair, and pressed the button to have the door open.

When he stepped outside into the office, Nathan was gone – possibly back in the bedroom, Charles couldn't be sure, but at the moment he knew his expression said it all. He wondered how much Nathan had heard, if anything.

By the time he started back for the bedroom, he heard Nathan curse and Charles couldn't stop himself when he sounded concerned, "Uh, is everything okay?"

Nathan turned around, brushing the hair that fell over his eyes to behind his ear, "Yeah, hit my toe on the fucking bed coming back from getting water."

Charles' look could have been read as not believing Nathan and it was true that he didn't. But what the look actually told, was that Charles now knew he wasn't the only one hiding secrets, even if they were little ones. "Then where is it?"

"What?"

"Your water," Charles said, clearing his throat. He stood where he was, his hands awkwardly at his side as he watched Nathan get back into bed.

Nathan settled, sitting up in bed, and seemed to be waiting for Charles to join him. "Finished it. Where'd you go?"

Charles shrugged, pulling back the sheets once more on the bed and got under the sheets, lifting his eyes to meet Nathan's as he told a white lie, "Uh, business. I couldn't sleep, I thought I'd get some work done until I felt tired enough to come back." It didn't feel right to lie, but he had been doing it little by little since he came back.

Nathan accepted the answer, and as they got settled back in bed, the conversation turned to Charles' scars, because that was where the conversation usually went when they couldn't think of anything else to say. Or rather, when there was too much to say and not the right time to do so.

So when he kissed Nathan, there was more behind that kiss. It ended up holding what he couldn't say, that he was terrified of what he'd have to do and what that would mean for them. That he couldn't admit just how much of an anchor that Nathan had become for him.

That following morning, he cancelled all his plans, and stayed in with Nathan. Because if he had to eventually make a choice, and if that choice ended up being what Ishnifus said, he needed to remember that he once felt like he had it all.

His heart wouldn't let him make that choice. It was his heart that was making him weak, and Charles was doing everything he could to hold onto that weakness. It was all he had.

If that weakness is what pushed him to protect the one he loved as long as he could, then maybe Charles didn't mind being so weak.


	16. Chapter 16

One of the things that Charles had to admit to enjoying was finding creative ways to fix all the messes that the guys got themselves into. There was an art to it now, crafting unique ways to reach out to the fans, but to keep all interested parties – and there were a lot of interested parties – happy. It took time, but things were usually always fixed. To a point, at least.

Unfortunately, this wasn't so much the band's fault this time as it was Nathan's. Nathan destroyed the album. Nathan didn't think things were right. So, it was Nathan's mess of an issue that Charles was trying to fix.

That surely wasn't going to be a mood killer.

Actually, it wasn't. What _had_ been though, was the less that Charles slept, the more he worked. The more he worked, he more he became focused on trying to find a way to prove Ishnifus wrong. Charles didn't need to leave, because when he left before, things almost didn't work out. He could do his part and still be with the boys.

Charles almost felt as if he was obsessing over this, going over everything that he knew about the prophecy and every other secret thing he had his brain wrapped around. There was knowledge missing that he didn't have, he knew that now. Eventually, he'd have to go to the church and finally demand to know what it was.

For now, he had to help try to repair an economy. In his decade long service with the band, he wasn't sure he had ever had to try to fix an economy before, but it was a new challenge. It was a challenge that he liked – though that didn't mean it was something he necessarily wanted to do.

It had taken a few months of planning, but one of the many ideas had started to take place. Fairs were a good way to get to more people, trick them into spending more money on things they didn't really need, and they could claim they saw the band play an amazing show. There couldn't possibly be anything wrong with that. Of course, with the insistence that they had a say in what would happen at the fairs, Charles found himself holding his breath – until he realized that their ideas weren't half bad.

Maybe he was rubbing off on them. Or maybe he was just rubbing off on Nathan.

They had spent more time apart lately, but it wasn't anything Charles was worried about. Nathan was working on some songs, trying to write (or at least this was what Charles was told) more music for the album, and Charles was focused on working. It was a reasonable excuse to spend time apart, and since Nathan was also trying to get back into the good side of the band members – mostly Pickles – there was no reason to worry.

_There was no reason to worry_. That was a phrase he kept repeating to himself over and over again and he couldn't exactly figure out why.

"Sire?" A female voice asked, following a knock on the door. Charles looked up to see Klokateer 252473, a female on the legal team – the only female on the legal team – wait for Charles to wave her in, and he did so with a nod. She walked in, with a stack of papers in her hands. "The contracts for the fairs are ready. We have the new assignments for the construction teams you requested, the wavers for the fans have been rewritten, and we have the updates to the paternity wavers as well."

"For the fair?" Charles raised an eyebrow towards her, "That's, ah, well I suppose an updated was needed anyway."

The female gear placed the papers in front of Charles and nodded, "Also, the notes for your meeting at three o'clock are on the top stack, as well as the meeting notes from this morning's call with Egypt." The gear nodded, though the expression she held could not be seen behind her black hood.

"Thank you." Charles glanced at the paperwork and glanced at the time on the clock – 9PM. "Ah, the boys?"

"I believe they were in the main room, or the kitchen. I heard voices from both directions, Sire."

"Thank you," He repeated, "That will be all." Klokateer 252473 nodded again respectfully and headed for the door. She had become as much of a personal assistant on top of being the head of the legal department, and Charles had to admit it was nice having someone else he felt he could trust.

He had to be going on instincts these days, and sometimes it felt like it was all he had. "Wait," Charles called after her, "I've got something that I, uh well that I need to discuss with you. Once we return, we'll talk."

"Sire?" She asked, and Charles just nodded.

"I will let you know when."

The klokateer nodded and saw herself out. Charles got to the paperwork in front of him. Some could wait, but anything for the fair had to be attended to now. Being focused on business was a good enough distraction, and he busied himself with finishing the last minute touches before they headed off the next day to Wisconsin for a week.

Two hours later, the paperwork was finalized, shockingly without anyone barging in saying that he had to stop working. Even Pickles had started to come in to get Charles to stop working, telling him to come do some shots, or whatever Pickles was into that night, and sometimes Charles would go along for a drink or two before calling it a night. He got distracted easily these days.

Tonight though, no one had come in. He had been cooped up in the office for far too long, and stood up, his eyes closing as he stretched his arms high above his head.

"_Nice_, now take your shirt off."

The voice was all too familiar, and it caused Charles to grin, even with his eyes still closed. He lowered his arms and opened his eyes. "I was just about to check in with you." He shrugged off his suit jacket, letting it rest over his chair as he walked over to Nathan in the doorway.

Nathan shut the door behind him, his glance looking towards Charles desk and at the papers there, "You sure about that?"

Charles shrugged, about to make a point but Nathan just shook his head, "You're still not taking your shirt off." Nathan reached for Charles' tie, undoing it as he narrowed his eyes. "You look like shit, by the way."

"It's, ah, nice to see you too, Nathan," Charles laughed, as worked the buttons on his shirt. Sometimes, their nights would start in passion, clothes being torn off and ruined, scattered all over the floor. Sometimes, fast passion was nice. Other times, like tonight, it was a different type of passion, a slow building one. Charles knew how to play this game. Nathan did too.

Once Charles' tie was undone and hung around his neck loosely, Nathan used the edges to pull Charles into him, kissing him hard.

Maybe Charles was wrong, maybe tonight it was the other type of passion. Judging by the fact that his shirt was torn off and tossed to the ground, well that might have proven the passion was different than originally expected. The fact that he was essentially picked up and thrown over Nathan's shoulder might have also given that away. When he landed on the bed with a thud, looking up to the lustful look in Nathan's eyes, Charles knew he was a goner then.

Yeah, these nights were a lot better. A hell of a lot better. Slow-burn was boring, and he had done that for ten years already. In a way, he had a lot of making up to do.

"…and I'm almost certain you can't punch a hole through a cement wall." Charles was trying his hardest not to laugh, finally catching his breath, the sheets and pillows thrown off the bed, leaving both of them but nothing but each other for any sort of warmth. Not that they actually needed it.

"The fuck you know, Charles? I can do it. I'll do it right fucking now." Nathan protested, but he didn't move from his collapsed position on the bed, and made a face that ended up making Charles give up not laughing. Nathan grinned, "You gotta lighten up more around the guys, come out drinking more."

Charles shook his head in amusement, shifting from his stomach to his back on the bed, "Prove I'm not a robot? You've seen that enough times I-"

"-_I've_ see it." Nathan interrupted, "You spend too much fucking time working! You only live once!"

Charles shot him a look.

Nathan winched but quickly covered, "Twice. You only live twice." Charles shifted next to him, and put his hands behind his head. "Yeah, uh, so I, uhhhhhh, wanted to ask you something," the front man looked over. "Okay?"

Raising an eyebrow, Charles brought his attention back to Nathan, "Yes?"

"You're not sleeping."

"That's not a question, that's a statement."

"I know! I mean, I know you're not sleeping?"

"Adding an upward infliction in your tone of voice still doesn't make it a question…"

"Shut up! Jesus!" A hand came down and hit Charles in the chest, causing the manager to narrow his eyes towards Nathan, who didn't care. "I don't know what is up with you, but I notice shit. I've noticed shit. Whatever."

Charles cleared his throat, and almost held his breath. He had been aware that Nathan had followed the sound of his voice a few months back, almost hitting the brick on the fireplace. He knew Nathan woke up looking for him some times, even if Nathan didn't want to admit it, because Charles could always hear him stir and then groan in frustration before passing back out.

"Just…don't be an _actual_ robot or…yeah. Okay." Nathan finished, clearly struggling with what he was trying to get across, but Charles found himself sighing in relief.

The manager cleared his throat. "I keep getting those…nightmares, so I found it better to just not sleep than to wake you up in a, uh, frightened state." It wasn't far from the truth. Charles had never been okay with how he'd take things out on Nathan if he was startled out of his nightmare. In a way, he was trying to protect Nathan from himself. But he was also trying to protect Nathan from whatever it was that kept him working and kept making him feel that something wasn't quite right.

"Those things are fucking brutal, though you jumping on me like that can be kind of hot…"

"When I almost choke the air out of you?"

"I said _almost_." This was said with a smile, and Charles just rolled his eyes.

"Either way, that's why."

"Why what?"

"Why I'm not sleeping."

Nathan shifted on the bed closer to Charles, and draped an arm over the other man's waist, and rested his head on his chest. "Then cut that shit out."

Charles laughed, partly because of how it was said, but the way that Nathan's hair brushed against his skin tickled slightly. He couldn't help but think that if anyone else saw him like this, relaxing in bed, he'd have to do some serious recon. "Okay."

He couldn't remember the rest of the conversation, because he was pretty certain that Nathan fell asleep in the middle of talking, and with how the front man was sleeping, Charles wasn't going to be moving for the rest of the night.

So he attempted to try to sleep for the first time in a long while, and found in the morning that he had done so without a single bad thought.

Well, that was new.

"One cannot serve two masters, Nathan." Charles had said, eyes narrowed for a moment, as he spoke about Pickles' side job, "One cannot serve two masters." He had assured Nathan – and maybe himself – that things were going to be fine, and it turned out that he was right.

It had been a week since the fair, and they had all returned to Mordhaus with orders from Charles to actually work on the album. He had given them one of his famous awkward pep talks that Nathan found he actually kind of enjoyed a lot now, and once they returned home, Charles had gone off to his office to do work. Nathan and the guys went to go fuck around for a while, because drinking was more fun than working.

But what Nathan couldn't place was why Charles sounded so distracted when he said the whole 'masters' thing that Nathan couldn't figure out. If he had been referring to Pickles and his regular jackoff job, well that was dumb. Pickles would never pick anything over the band, not for real, Nathan knew that. It didn't make sense that Charles didn't.

Unless, that wasn't what Charles meant when he said it.

Nathan wasn't usually the type to think on things. But he couldn't help it when it came to Charles, and things seemed a little off since they got back from the fair.

Song writing wasn't working out, mostly because he was too drunk he couldn't see the paper in front of him, so he figured it was better to just go see what Charles was doing now. He was bored. Plus, he kind of missed the guy. Not that it was metal to admit something like that. It wasn't. Especially when he just saw him three hours before.

Okay. Time to suck it up. _Heh._ Okay. Time to go drink and disrupt yet another business meeting, because Nathan was good at that.

When he got to Charles' office though, the door was locked. He was about to knock on the door when he heard laughter. More importantly, he heard a _woman_ laughing.

Okay. That was…confusing. But not really, Nathan still flirted with groupies, so maybe that was all this was.

_"I really do need you around, Charles. I couldn't do this without you." _Nathan wasn't sure he heard that correctly, or maybe he was imagining things. He had to be. Right?

He didn't recognize the voice, all he knew was that the door was locked, there was a woman in there, Nathan was feeling…jealous. Something was off.

Nathan narrowed his eyes, pressing his ear to the door as he heard Charles go, _"I need you around too, and I just don't want them to find out."_ Well. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

He couldn't hear the answer, as he heard "NATHAN!" from down the hall, and he stepped back to see Pickles coming towards him, "Waddya doin' listening in on the chief there?"

Nathan just grunted. Pickles laughed, "What, he won't give ya a good fuck?"

Nathan growled under his breath, "The door is locked and I hear a _lady voice_."

"Wha?" Pretty soon, both Nathan and Pickles had their ears to Charles' office door, straining to hear.

_"Well, I didn't get a chance to tell you how much I missed you before,"_ the female voice said.

Then, Charles' reply: _"You didn't have to tell me, I already knew." _

Pickles looked over to Nathan, whose eyes had narrowed and Pickles knew that look. "Nate, what are you thinkin'?"

This could go a couple of ways. Nathan stayed quiet for what seemed like a long time, while Pickles finally moved away from the door. Nathan finally just walked away, and headed towards his bedroom.

Well, this wasn't good.

_An hour earlier_

Klokateer 252473 showed up at Charles' office just as she had been requested to, and shut the door behind her. "Sire?" She looked towards Charles, sitting at his desk once again going through endless piles of paperwork, most of which she brought over once they had returned from Wisconsin.

When he looked up, he smiled at her. "Hey." He moved from behind his desk and walked over to her and grinned, "It's good to see you."

She nodded, "Well?"

"It's fine. You can take it off." Charles said as he locked the door and walked over to his desk, pulling out his bottle of brandy and two glasses, pouring them each a glass.

She understood what he meant, and took off her Klokateer hood, revealing bright red hair braided and hanging around her shoulders, glasses similar to Charles, and his same color eyes. She grinned at him, and walked towards his desk as she put her hood on the desk.

Charles held out a glass for her to take, and nodded. "Good to see a familiar face."

"Too bad _yours_ is still ugly."

"Ah, I can see you've been hanging around Murderface again."

"_Ouch_." She laughed, as she took a seat in front of Charles' desk, crossing one leg over the other, "Is that really any way to speak to your sister? And I really hate calling you 'Sire'. Why do you make everyone do that?"

As she took a sip of her brandy, Charles just rolled his eyes.


	17. Chapter 17

"Ah, I can see you've been hanging around Murderface again." The tone in Charles' voice was almost dry, as he moved back to his seat behind his desk, and leaned back into his chair. He watched the woman in front of him move around the office like she owned the place – this was nothing new.

"_Ouch_." She laughed, as she took a seat in front of Charles' desk, crossing one leg over the other, "Is that really any way to speak to your sister? And I really hate calling you 'Sire'. Why do you make everyone do that?"

As she took a sip of her brandy, Charles just rolled his eyes. "Claire, you're really annoying."

"You do realize you haven't exactly answered my question, right? I mean, I get it, it goes with the band, but why _you_? What makes you special?" Claire laughed, holding the brandy in her right hand, practically mirroring how her brother held his glass in his left.

"I run everything." Charles said, very matter-of-factually, and this caused Claire to laugh.

"Okay, you didn't want to meet me because I hate that you make me call you 'Sire'. So what is it?"

"That's a precaution! What do you think would happen if people found out that I had my sister working for us?" Charles asked, taking a drink from his glass. "I have to take every precaution."

Claire leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee, "You know what would happen? No one would fucking question you, because you're the CFO! Goddammit, Charles, use that big brain of yours for logical thinking for once."

Charles' nose scrunched up in annoyance, but the annoyance slowly faded. Outside of Claire, the only one who knew Charles the best was Nathan, but there were things that Nathan didn't know.

Like the fact that Charles' sister had been working in the legal department for seven years and no one knew. He had taken every step to make sure she wasn't found out. She got no special treatment. She went through the imitation like everyone else. He had known she'd make it in. There had never been any doubt about that.

But while there were things Charles couldn't tell Nathan, he could tell Claire. She was there for a reason, after all. "I need you to do something," He finally said, setting down his glass.

"_There_ it is. What do you need?"

"Do we have anything else on FalconBack?"

"I've done what I could with what Edgar handed over to you, but there isn't much there. Blueprints, it might be a weapon of some kind. It might be the world's largest dildo—"

Charles groaned in annoyance.

"—what I'm saying is that we don't have anything else. That's all we have. Which you already knew. I gave you that information before you left."

Charles rubbed his brow, "Okay, I, ah, I need you to look after something else for me."

"Which is?" Claire asked, taking another drink from the glass, watching as Charles reached into the drawers of his desk and pulled out a large folder, filled with note paper.

He placed it on the desk and slid it towards the edge. Claire stood up and brought her glass with her, setting it down on the desk as she picked up the folder and flipped through it. "What is it?"

"Remember how I explained how I -"

"—came back from the dead? Yeah, I remember," Claire snapped, and Charles frowned for a moment, but continued.

"Yes, well, there's a prophecy that surrounds the band. Edgar has found out some information, but it's not enough, and I'm certain that there is something that Ishnifus is hiding from me."

Deciding she could flip through the rest of the papers later, Claire closed the folder and looked at Charles, "Jesus Christ, why can't you trust anyone anymore? I've been here for seven years and you haven't trusted anyone with anything." She crossed her arms, "Other than Nathan."

At the mention of Nathan's name, Charles tensed up for a moment, though tried not to show his emotions. His sister knew better.

"You've gotten close to him lately. I know you. I know what you're doing."

Charles crossed his arms, as he sat up straighter in his chair, "I suppose you'll tell me that I'm making a mistake."

"No," Claire said, a tone of surprise in her voice, "Why would I think that? I mean, he's cute! I don't really go for lead singers usually, but hey you can't really deny the man's appeal…"

"_Get to the point, Claire._"

"Okay! Jesus. What I was going to say is that you really deserve to be happy, but you need to be careful. I'm, uh, assuming you haven't told him anything?" Claire picked up her glass, finished it, and put the glass down. Charles rolled his eyes at this; she never really knew how to appreciate the drink like he did. Then again, they were practically polar opposites, they just had the same goals and skill sets. It was useful.

"No, I haven't told him anything."

"About me, about how you—"

"I haven't told him anything. I just told you."

"Okay, okay." Claire sighed, and rubbed her own brow, a familiar gesture that seemed to carry between siblings. She walked over to Charles and leaned on his desk, keeping her arms crossed over her chest. "You have to say something."

"I'm quite sure I know how to handle business affairs, Claire."

"Your life isn't a _business affair_, Charles." She narrowed his eyes at him, "I'm just saying that I've never seen you as happy around anyone as you are around him, and I don't even want to think what you are like alone with him, but if you want to keep that…_whatever it is_…you need to say something."

Charles just looked at Claire with a raised eyebrow, and she kept talking. "Listen, I know that I…I know that we…haven't always been close and I'm not going to pretend that you're my best friend or any of that, but I'm your sister and we are a lot alike. And I'm telling you that trust is the biggest thing."

He picked up his glass and drank from it, and smirked over to Claire, "You, uh, sound like you've been reading some…very un-metal things. I could get you fired for that."

"_Bullshit_," She swatted his arm, "Who would be around to sneak and do your dirty business? That's a mighty big folder, you going to trust that to 216?"

"Don't see why not, he's been through a hell of a lot."

"Uh huh."

A silence fell between the two of them, as Claire picked up her hood. These conversations could never last too long, because people would get suspicious. She was already in and out of Charles' office enough as it was. Of course, she knew she had his protection, but she could protect herself just as well.

"Listen, you just…need to be careful, okay?" Claire said, her slightly nervous tone breaking the silence, "I really do need you around, Charles. I couldn't do this without you. Hell, I wouldn't be _here_ if you hadn't asked me to be. But I can't…" Her voice trailed off and she shot Charles a look. He knew what it meant.

"I need you around too, and I just don't want them to find out." Charles said, his tone softer than it was before. "You need to understand why I need to keep it a secret."

"I can handle myself. I've done it hundreds of times."

"I need you alive, Claire."

"Yeah," She snapped back, "Just like how I needed you alive?"

The silence fell between them again, heavier now. Once again, Claire broke it, "Well, I didn't get a chance to tell you how much I, uh, missed you…before. When you came back." She cleared her throat, "This is me saying it now; don't make me say it again." Her confidence came back in her voice, and Charles smirked.

"Alright. So you know though," He stood up, their time together running short now, and she had to leave before things got noticeable, "You didn't have to tell me, I already knew."

Claire sighed and shook her head, as she adjusted her glasses before putting her hood back on, "Okay, Han Solo. That was weird." She picked up the large file that Charles had pulled out for her, and hugged it close to her chest.

They walked to the door, and opened it, and started their usual play: "Will that be all, Sire?"

"Yes, thank you. I will see you tomorrow for the team meeting." Charles nodded towards Claire and she nodded respectfully in return, heading down the hallway.

Charles chose to leave his office door open as he headed back to his desk, starting back in on paperwork until he heard someone come in. He looked up to see Pickles walking into the room, looking a bit drunk and sheepish – something Charles wasn't sure could have been accomplished before. "Yes?"

"Hey ya chief, ya busy?" Pickles walked in, looking around as if he had never been in the office before, and Charles raised an eyebrow.

"Everything alright?" He clasped his hands together and leaned on his desk slightly as Pickles took a seat. His eyes went to the second glass on the desk, and apparently Pickles' had too.

"You have company here?" The drummer gestured towards the glass, and Charles shrugged.

"Not really." The tone said 'don't ask', and Pickles didn't. What he said though, shocked Charles.

"So ah, Nathan thinks you might be losin' interest in him. We saw that gear leavin' yer room. Well, I did. Nathan left long before that."

"Left?"

"Yeah, we were listenin' in; you always tell us we can't have locked doors, right?"

If Charles hadn't been good at hiding his emotions, everything would have crossed his face right there. Anger, nervousness, worry. Anger that they were listening in, nervousness at what they might have heard, worry that he'd have to explain to Nathan that he'd been lying to him. "Where is he now?"

"Bedroom, I think."

"Thanks. I should—"

"Gotcha. See ya later, chief." Pickles stood up, gave Charles and awkward wave and headed out of the office.

Charles waited a few moments, going over a plan in his head before he headed out of his office as well and went down to Nathan's room. The door was open, and Nathan was reading something on his bed, wearing his glasses. Charles smiled small at this, but wasn't sure if that was what Nathan wanted to see.

"What are you reading?" Charles asked, announcing his presence. Nathan set whatever it was down and shrugged.

"Nothing."

"Pickles came by and said you were outside my door earlier."

Nathan was silent for a moment before answering, "Yeah. You and some lady."

Charles approached Nathan and sat next to him on the bed, "Ah, that was 252473," he mentally wished he hadn't tried to be so clever with her number, "We had some legal contracts to go through. All boring stuff, really."

"Yeah. Sounded boring." Nathan said, though he wasn't looking at Charles. When he did, he looked upset, though Charles knew the front man would never say why.

"It wasn't for me. But I suppose business is never boring." Charles said, a small smirk on his lips, "I'm headed to the kitchen, want to join me?"

Nathan looked Charles over for a moment before shrugging, and later a smirk appeared. He took off his reading glasses, "No, but you can stay here. Don't we have, like…servants to bring us food?"

For now, things seemed to be okay, and Charles couldn't help but feel a little relieved at that. "Yeah, I suppose they do."

Still, something still felt off. But Charles wouldn't jeopardize things if he didn't have to, even if it meant letting Nathan know everything. Ishnifus might have been right that he really couldn't serve two masters, but right now he only wanted to serve one, even if he was holding a lot back while doing so.

No harm ever came from withholding information.

Right?


	18. Chapter 18

"I told you to trust me." The woman standing in his office now, stood with confidence. Her hair rested around her shoulders, and she wore a light pant suit. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and was making her position known. "The record company sent me in for a reason, and I told you to respect that, and trust me."

Charles had his arms crossed as well, "I never said that I did not trust you. Or that I did not respect you. A little warning of the trip would have been professional."

Abigail laughed, "Oh no. I don't let managers get in the way of what I do for a living, Charles. You're no exception."

Thankfully, he held his frustrations well. "Alright. Okay. You've made your point, and you were rather successful, but I'd prefer not to need to do an extraction team again in the near future. Just make me aware of what is going on."

"Are you sure you don't have GPS trackers implanted in them? Don't you always know where they are by now?"

Charles had to admit – the record company couldn't have sent over anyone better than Abigail Remeltindrinc. She knew what she was doing. She had a respectable career, and track record. If anyone could get the band to get back into the studio, it would be her. He even enjoyed their conversations, and they seemed to be on the same page when it came to business.

After all, they were running out of options and Charles knew things had to be put in motion. They needed that album to be completed. At least he knew _that_ much of the prophecy. Ever since the boys had returned from the Middle East, they were more determined than ever to get things rolling.

As much as Charles might have felt that trip was a mistake, it lit a fire under the boys and he couldn't exactly complain about that. Abigail knew what she was doing, and she was professional. He immediately had respect for anyone who could get ahold of business matters so smoothly as she had, and well, that was good in his book.

The more they talked, the more Charles grew to trust her, and perhaps that wasn't a bad thing. He had been trusting a lot of different people lately.

Rather, he had been trusting Claire and Abigail, but he still couldn't bring himself to talk to Nathan about anything that was going on, or even clear up what Nathan might have heard in his office weeks ago. Somehow, he justified that it was too important to keep things hidden – it was all tied together too closely, and there was no saying what would happen if things were revealed too soon. Even he didn't have all the answers.

Not that he hadn't been trying to get those answers.

The work of Edgar and Claire had moved from Falconback to the prophecy, and the only thing Charles had learned was that the band had to go back to the water. It was simple enough, and seemed to be a good solution, and way to record the rest of the album, but it was planning everything that would cause a bit of an error. So he had blueprints drawn up, he had the engineers get to work, and he had his elite gears look for ideal places within the sea that they could go. He spent weeks on this, and it was weeks that took him away from focusing on anything else.

That would prove to be problematic later on, but he couldn't see that far into the future.

Claire checked in now and again, though not with secret meetings as they had before. She'd hand him a stack of papers after a legal meeting, and there would be something written in French (or whatever language she felt like scribbling in) that would give him her latest findings. The general gist of it all seemed to be the same though: Charles would have to go back to the Church to get the information himself from the source.

He had become so focused on work lately that his time with Nathan hadn't been as much as it had been before, but with the way that Charles started to feel increasingly guilty for holding things back, the less time around Nathan the better. He could focus on what mattered.

Though, even what mattered seemed to be blurring now. Before, Charles knew exactly what mattered. What had mattered before was his job, the life that he had, the life that he got a second chance with. His own emotions, his own loyalties did not need to come into play, and they hardly did. Then, what mattered was his own happiness, simply because he had never allowed himself to do that before. He had questioned on if it was possible for the two to coexist, but he still didn't have a proper answer for that.

Which bothered him a lot; there had never been something that Charles didn't have the answer for, and he was feeling more lost these days than ever before.

The idea for going out searching for answers wasn't exactly one that he wanted to do, but he was starting to realize that maybe it was time in a shift of priorities, no matter how much it was going to hurt in the long run.

The decision was a last minute one, but he sent word to his personal assistant and to Claire to keep the business in line while he was out. He packed lightly, made some appointments in regards to the competition of the dethsub, and sent word that he would be arriving to the church soon enough.

He found the guys in the kitchen, and he walked over to them suitcase in hand, "I have to go out of town for a few days. Nathan and Pickles, I'm leaving you in charge." The groans of the order were expected, but what wasn't expected that Nathan wouldn't meet his eye contact. In that moment, Charles wanted to just address him directly, tell him where he'd be, but Charles held back. He had already held back so much, he might as well keep that pattern going.

So he nodded, and left the kitchen, the voices of the guys slowly becoming a distant sound as he headed out to the helicopter that awaited him. A gear stood by ready to take Charles anywhere he wanted to go, but Charles dismissed him. "I'll go myself. Thank you."

He set his suitcase down in the helicopter, and was doing his last minute checks before he heard someone board behind him. "I'm coming with you."

Charles turned around in the chair, and wasn't sure how to react. "Nathan, you can't. I need you to stay here and look after things while I'm gone. I trust you."

Nathan stood, arms crossed, "Then where are you going."

"I have some, ah, business to attend to. I should be back within a week or so. I won't be longer than two."

"That's not what I asked. _Where_ are you going?" Nathan's voice was stronger than Charles had expected, but he knew he had to keep his ground. This was all too important; he couldn't let his emotions get in the way now – despite the tightness in his chest that he was experiencing right now, and the desire to just blurt everything out.

"I'm overlooking some construction on the submarine that I told you about, and I am visiting an old colleague of mine who offered to help." Okay, it wasn't a complete lie. It was still a little bit of one. Charles stood up, and walked over to Nathan, "That's the truth."

Nathan seemed to accept the answer, at least begrudgingly, and nodded. "Okay then uhhhh, just make sure you come back."

"What?" The statement threw Charles for a moment, and he looked over Nathan with confusion, "Why wouldn't I come back?"

"Just do it." Nathan said, and got off the helicopter, and headed back inside. Charles stood by the open door for a moment watching Nathan retreat into Mordhaus before he shut and locked the door behind him.

Within a few minutes, he was in the air to his first destination. He trusted that things would be okay under Nathan's control. He showed him what to do if he had to stand his ground. Charles just hoped he'd remember it.

_Two months ago_  
Charles had asked Nathan to join him in the gym for a workout but for something else too. A training lesson; Nathan had requested it, after all.

"You asked me to show you, right?" Charles said, as he set down his water bottle as Nathan walked in. A confused look crossed over Nathan's face for a moment.

"What?"

Charles stretched his arms over his chest from side to side, "You wanted me to show you how to fight like I do."

Nathan nodded, and stretched out following Charles' lead. "Yeah, I did. So, uhhh you're gonna train me or something? Is this going to be a montage?"

The manager laughed, "No, it's not going to be a montage. I, ah, I'm not sure we could actually accomplish that without video and film editing."

A grin crossed Nathan's lips, as it always did when he got Charles to laugh. Surprisingly, it was a hard thing to do, but Nathan was succeeding more and more. It was interesting to see what Charles was like with his walls down, and Nathan was getting addicted to it.

Charles continued, as he walked towards Nathan, "Something to remember is that it's not about fighting blindly, just throwing punches and doing your best to dodge them. You have to think on your feet, but you have to know what you're fighting for." Charles gestured for Nathan to punch him, which Nathan tried but Charles caught. "What are you fighting for, Nathan?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow, "Uh, I'm doing it because you told me?"

"No, I mean, ah you're out there, and you're attacked. What are you fighting for? Why do you fight back?"

"Oh! Survival," Nathan said, as he continued to spar with Charles, who kept either dodging or catching his punches, throwing his fist back towards him and causing Nathan to step backwards from time to time.

"Survival for whom?" Charles asked, as he took a jab at Nathan, though without the full power behind it, and knocked Nathan's shoulder.

"Myself?"

"Is that a statement, or a question?"

Nathan growled in frustration, "Myself." He said, with more confidence.

"Then prove it to me," Charles challenged, an almost wicked grin that Nathan hadn't seen before, and Nathan was determined. They fought once more, but once more he failed to lay a single hit on Charles.

The manager laughed and sidestepped, seemingly enjoying the exchange. It was livelier than the first time they sparred, and Charles had a feeling it wouldn't be the last. Nathan seemed frustrated.

"Alright, if that's not the answer, what is it?" Nathan asked, eyes narrowed, chest heaving.

"I fight not for myself, but what my survival _means_," Charles said, holding up his fists to signal a new start, and Nathan nodded. They started to fight again, and Charles kept talking, his words paused slightly due to the heavy breathing of fighting. "My survival means that others will be protected. My survival means that I can continue what I am meant to do, what I'm supposed to do here. My survival means that _you_ continue to be safe, and that _I_ get to be around to see it."

Charles struck and Nathan dodged, shifting around to Charles' left, the man following his moves. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"No," Charles said, dodging, "It's being smart; fighting for your beliefs and your instincts. If you fight just for yourself, you can fear your own mortality. That fear makes you weak."

"Fighting for someone else makes you fear that too!" Nathan shot back, and Charles shook his head as he stepped back away from Nathan's throw.

"That fear _drives_ you, Nathan, because it's something bigger than yourself that you're fighting for."

"Everyone's bigger than you," Nathan shot back, and landed a punch on Charles' arm, "You're scrawny."

Charles smirked, "You, ah, you don't seem to mind." He grabbed the arm that had punched him and held Nathan back as he got a punch in to Nathan's side.

Nathan narrowed his eyes towards Charles, but couldn't hide the smirk he had, shifting out of Charles' hold on his arm rather easily, "Uhhhhh, so I get it." He threw, and Charles dodged.

"Do you?" Charles asked, and his fist flew towards Nathan's face, and Nathan caught the punch without even flinching. Charles smirked in approval.

Nathan's hand gripped onto Charles' fist, and locked eyes with the manager. "Yeah, fight for what's yours. What you want to keep around."

"Fight for what you think is worthy of protecting, what you care for in any capacity." Charles kept his eyes locked with Nathan's, refusing to look away. "If you fight like that, and you'll win."

Nathan let go of Charles' fist, and Charles lowered his arm. The two men grinned at each other.

If Nathan remembered what Charles said, Charles knew things would be fine.

Little did Charles know, a few days later when he was back in the air traveling to his second destination, Nathan was chasing down a bully with a broken snow globe in his hand.

Charles' words rang in Nathan's ears as he ran through the woods, _fight for what you think is worth of protecting_, and as stood above the shaking bully on the ground, he could feel the meaning behind the words. There were things he cared about, whether he liked to admit to it or not, and you didn't fuck with his band. "What hand do you fret with?"


	19. Chapter 19

When Charles woke up, it was in a bed that wasn't his own, but it was one he was far too familiar with. He had spent too much time in this bed, healing from wounds he shouldn't have been able to heal from. Sometimes, in his darker moments, he wondered what it would have been like had he just perished, instead of given a new life.

Every time these thoughts came up, he was told to ignore them, as that was not his fate and that was not the path he was meant to take. He had a very large role to play in all of this, even if he did not want to admit to it.

There were times that he struggled. Of course, these were times that no one was around to watch him, as he'd walk to the liquor cabinet in his office to take out a bottle of whatever he grabbed first. In these moments, he'd just sit at his desk, his head in his hands, the bottle open next to him, and he'd drink until he blacked out because it was far easier that way.

Feeling as though the fate of the world rested on his shoulders could get to be too much at times, even if there were a few people who knew about it. Having any sort of doubts could get not only himself killed, but those he was fighting to protect. He could tell Nathan about how he fought all he wanted, but there were times that Charles was barely holding on.

Charles felt like he was sinking fast at times, only able to float to the surface for a few months before everything else started to drag him down once more. Being aware of the people that depended on him – without them really knowing that they did – made matters worse. He wasn't exactly the most socially accepted guy, and he knew this. He was far too business minded, he was far too focused on how things worked to ignore how to actually make things work socially. He had never had someone grab him by the hair and pull him up for air, and get some sense into him.

It was why Charles was struggling so much lately, and it was why he hated that he knew what he had to do now.

He finally got out of the bed, dressed in his street clothes, and walked out of the room as he cleaned his glasses on his shirt, practically running into a monk. "Ah, sorry." He cleared his throat and put his glasses on, and the monk just pointed down the hallway. Charles sighed. At least the Klokateers actually spoke to you. Half of the monks spoke, half didn't, and he couldn't tell the difference between the ones who did and the ones who didn't.

Running a business was hard. Getting into a pseudo-religion and allowing the man in charge tell him about how he was a main player in a prophecy he wasn't even sure he believed was harder. The biggest issue was that he did believe though. He believed that there was something far bigger than himself, and maybe that was why he had become so obsessed with figuring things out with the Tribunal and the Revengencers. These weren't just people looking to destroy what mattered to Charles; they were working to destroy something far bigger.

Eventually, Charles found his way into a large room, the winding path lit with torches, leading the way to the prophecy painted on the wall. This was the first time in months that Charles had decided to look at it again to try to understand, and he found himself tracing the drawings on the wall soon enough. His fingers stopped on the painting that was supposed to represent himself.

"You seem lost in thought, my friend." Ishnifus greeted Charles, the man walking up behind him and Charles dropped his hand from the wall and shoved it into his pocket. He turned around to face Ishnifus, as always dressed in his robes.

"Just trying to wrap my mind around things, I suppose." Charles replied with a shrug, as Ishnifus' glance went from Charles to the wall behind him.

"I think you know more than you are allowing yourself to admit. I think you know what needs to be done." Ishnifus walked to stand next to Charles, his attention on the paintings. "You know what your role is, and there is more to it."

Charles shifted on his feet awkwardly, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I know." He paused, "I just don't want to give up what I have gained to achieve it. I want…to be selfish once in my life."

Ishnifus' hand rested on Charles' shoulder, "My friend, I promise you that this is all worth it. This—"

"—will save the world, I know." Charles said, his eyes focused on the wall.

"No, this will not only do as foretold, but will give your life a new meaning. You will -"

Charles scoffed at Ishnifus' words and turned to look at him, interrupting once more, "I think…I think that you are putting all you can into these paintings on the wall, and I think that you are desperately searching for more behind them." He gestured to the wall, "Just because this has been true so far…" He let his words trail off, knowing that anything he said after wouldn't make sense. His frustrations were coming through.

"My friend, I think that is what _you_ are doing."

Ishnifus' words hung in the air between the two men and eventually, Charles let out a heavy sigh, and his shoulders slumped. "You're right."

The priest's hand moved from Charles' shoulder and Charles could hear the man walking away. He still stared at the wall in front of him, this time focusing on the paintings representing the boys. _His_ boys.

He turned around and called out after Ishnifus, "Wait." The priest stopped and turned around, and waited for Charles to catch up to him. "Ishnifus, we need to talk. You need to tell me everything you've been holding back."

The man nodded, "You are ready, my friend. We have much to talk about."

He returned to Mordland exactly when he said he would. A week and a half, not a day later, and no more than two weeks. The moment he stepped foot into Mordhaus, he was greeted by his personal assistant. "Sire, everything is as you requested. The masters are finishing writing right now, and all their things have been loaded onto the submarine as requested. We are just awaiting your final instructions, and we can head out."

Charles nodded, and dismissed the man as he got to his office and unlocked the door.

When he walked in, Claire was waiting at his desk, her hood off. "Did I scare you?" She laughed, as Charles shut the door behind him.

"No." Charles set down his suitcase from the past week's trip and pulled out another from a nearby closet, bringing it into his bedroom. He heard Claire get up and follow him.

"You're already packed you know. Except the basics, I figured you'd want to do that part." She leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed as she watched Charles pack his things in silence. "Things were fine here. We might have figured something else out, but—"

"—I already know everything." Charles said, looking up from his suitcase resting on the bed, "I'll handle it."

Claire raised an eyebrow, "You'll handle what, exactly?"

"Everything. I'll handle it."

"Charles—"

"I said I'll handle it, okay?" Charles snapped, staring at Claire, who looked back at him with wide eyes.

She stayed silent for a moment. "What the hell did they tell you? What the hell happened?"

Charles zipped up his suitcase, not needing to add much else to the suitcase, and set it on the ground. "You shouldn't be in here, what if someone saw you?"

"No one saw me! Jesus, you look like shit, will you just explain what is going on? I'm—"

Charles held up his hand. "I have a lot of things to do and not a lot of time to do it, Claire, and I really do not have time to explain things to you. I will in time, but we have to get going, we have to get recording." He picked up the suitcase and walked out of his bedroom, "And you need to get your hood back on."

He headed for the door, as Claire just rolled her eyes and grabbed her hood from the desk, and pulled it over, some of her red hair coming out from under the hood. Charles looked at Claire as he opened the door, "I'll contact you in time, okay?"

He spoke as he opened the door, and didn't notice the person standing on the other side. Nathan was there, standing with his hand raised as if he was going to knock on the door, and when Charles noticed Nathan, Nathan noticed Claire, or rather, a female klokateer in Charles' office with him. Behind a locked door.

"Nathan," Charles started but Nathan just looked him over, and dropped his hand.

"You came back. Good. We're waiting on you." Nathan looked at Claire for a moment, his eyes narrowed, and looked back and Charles and walked down the hall.

Sensing the potential issue, Claire spoke normally, "Do you want me to go talk to him, I don't want him to think that—"

Charles closed his eyes for a moment, before he opened them again. "No, it will blow your cover. I'll handle it." He headed down the hall in the same direction as Nathan had gone, suitcase in hand, leaving Claire to shut and lock the office door behind her.

"You'll handle it. Right." She muttered under her breath, shaking her head before heading off in the opposite direction.


	20. Chapter 20

Three weeks under the water, and things were going well. At least, in a work sense, Charles was pleased. Abigail kept the boys on track, at least for now. Even Charles couldn't hold their attention for long, and knew Abigail could be fighting a battle sooner rather than later. But things had been moving along, despite the boys' minor 'medical' issue that only made Charles roll his eyes.

Though, he got it. Yeah, he understood.

That wasn't what he needed to focus on though. They were here to get work done, and Charles was all too good at switching that part of himself on. He could all too easily forget everything else and focus on work, and since that was the most important thing right now, that was what he had to do. He had made up his mind when he returned to Mordhaus three weeks ago, and he couldn't go back on that now.

Sacrifices needed to be made, no matter how much it hurt.

Charles knew just how easy it would be to be selfish and fix what he wanted so badly. He could very easily go talk to Nathan, tell him everything – absolutely everything – and risk putting him in danger. But telling him everything wouldn't necessarily solve anything. It wouldn't get the record done, it wouldn't fulfill the prophecy that Charles now believed in more than he had before.

What Charles wanted and what Charles needed were never the same thing anymore. They couldn't be, because there was too much at stake.

That didn't mean that the band meetings had gotten easier though, as the frustrations that Nathan seemed to have towards Charles only grew, and Charles just sat there as he let Nathan get out whatever vent he needed to get out (yesterday's was about food, he wasn't too sure what today's was about, because he stopped listening) and they would all move on.

When the boys were done digressing as they usually did, Charles sent them off as usual, which caused groans from the others, but he didn't actually care. What he cared about was getting the album done. What he cared about was getting off this damn submarine.

What Charles cared about was keeping himself in check and remembering that what he was doing was for the best of the band. It was what was best for everyone involved, even if Charles couldn't explain what that was exactly. He had again gone back to being selfless rather than being selfish, and despite trying to fight himself every second of the way, it had to be done.

He had always been a man of sacrifices, and there didn't seem to be a reason for him to stop now.

Still, by the fifth week of returning to his designated sleeping quarters alone, even he started to question his decisions.

It seemed that everyone was going crazy in their own ways – the boys, well they were predictable. Abigail seemed composed, but Charles wasn't about to ask as to why that was. He just seemed to handle frustration better than others. He had things to focus on, and so that was what he did. He worked, he continued to do other aspects of the business when he could, he responded to emails and calls, and took meetings with Roy and the rest of the record label, keeping them up to date on the recordings.

Everything needed to go well, because so much was riding on this album being completed, that Charles could actually feel the stress building up in his shoulders, all over his body.

Still, he kept his distance from Nathan, who now only grunted an acknowledgement towards Charles, unless he was trying to be a smart ass or spoken to directly. Charles couldn't help but still keep an eye on Nathan, because it was part of who Charles was now. He had to keep telling himself that the choices he was making, though they might not seem good at the time, would eventually work themselves out in the end.

He had told Claire he would handle it, but by the seventh week, he was wondering if he was really able to handle any of it at all.

It seemed that the guys weren't the only ones going crazy underwater in the submarine. Charles was very slowly losing his mind.

He had to get his frustrations out, and so one night before it was officially ten weeks of them being underwater, Charles headed for the gym. He had been able to sneak off down there when the guys were recording, or off doing something else so he could be alone, and tried to go down around the same time once a week.

The punching bag now looked far worse than when they first started on their descent into the water, and Charles made a note that if they did this again, there would need to be new bags around to replace. By the way that Charles was hitting it now; it almost looked as if it wouldn't be able to take another round.

That didn't matter to Charles though, who was completely focused on the bag in front of him, punching the hell out of it, because it honestly felt like it was all he had keeping himself sane. He could just give up, go see Nathan, apologize, and see what happened. He could easily just give in to what he wanted now so badly it was screaming at him every time he even heard Nathan's voice. But he couldn't. He had made his choice, even if no one else knew it, and he was a man of convictions. He had to stick to it.

He had been so much in the zone, focused on the punching bag, that when a fist slammed into his shoulder, he reacted the only way he knew – his right fist flew towards the person who threw a punch at him and it landed square in the chest.

Charles almost seemed to be acting in a rage, taking out his frustrations on the bag that the distraction caused a defense mechanism in him to go off. Except the man standing in front of him was Nathan. Nathan was staring at him, his hair hanging over his eyes, and he looked pissed off.

He also wasn't wearing a shirt, and Charles swallowed hard when he realized that Nathan had been using the gym just as much as he had.

Not that Nathan gave Charles much of a time to react, because Charles was shoved to the wall and a fist flew towards his face. Charles dodged and Nathan's fist slammed into the wall, and Charles' arm came down hard on Nathan's back.

This wasn't a friendly sparring match. This was Nathan taking his anger out on Charles.

The next time someone slammed into a wall, it was Nathan, and he crashed into the empty water jugs that had been collecting in the corner. Charles walked over to Nathan, not sure what he was going to do, but was taken off guard as Nathan kicked out his leg and knocked Charles to the ground. Nathan lunged on Charles, and the two struggled on the ground, wrestling, fighting for power over the other person.

Behind every single one of Nathan's actions, there was anger, and there was hurt. Behind every single one of Charles' actions, there was defense.

"_Enough_", Charles snapped, when he had wrestled top position and pinned Nathan to the ground. It didn't matter that the manager was smaller than Nathan; he knew exactly where to lay the pressure to make it so Nathan couldn't – and wouldn't – move.

The two men stared at each over, eyes narrowed, chests heaving, both covered in sweat. When Charles thought Nathan calmed down, he stood up and offered a hand to Nathan, but Nathan refused it.

"What the hell was—" Charles started to ask, angry and bruised, but Nathan cut him off.

"You don't fucking get to ask the questions, Offdensen." Nathan growled, "_Fuck you_." The words were said with such venom and anger behind it, which Charles thought he could hear them cutting his skin.

This wasn't like the other times, where they had fought and things were fine. This wasn't like the other times where they hit the gym, and then hit the sheets.

"I'm sick of you and your fucking questions, when you refuse to give any fucking answers." Nathan hissed, "Fuck you, Charles. I'm done."

Nathan shoved past Charles to get out of the gym, and Charles stood there for a moment, catching his breath, but trying to come to terms with what just happened. While he had always gotten his priorities in order professionally, he never really cared or wondered what his lack of priorities in his personal would cost him. He never stopped to consider the consequences.

Charles' little lies of omission in order to protect Nathan and the band turned into a giant ball of anger and consequences, causing Charles in one instant to lose everything.

Fuck what Ishnifus said. He had to fix this.

Now.

He didn't get the chance to fix things with Nathan. Not that night, but he planned to the next day. Once they had stopped recording and working for the day, Charles had a plan. He had calculated it all out; he had plotted it in his head. 'Nathan', he'd say, 'There are some things I have been holding back from you, but I can't do that anymore.' Or, he'd say something along those lines. He was never good at having personal conversations like that; he was too awkward, especially around those he cared too much about.

The fact of the matter was, Charles didn't want to lose Nathan, and feared that he already had. The more he thought about it, the worse it got, and it was all starting to get to Charles.

Whatever else was getting to the guys was making their music suffer, and Charles put his personal issues aside (as he always did), and focused on the work. Neither Charles nor Abigail were pleased with how things were sounding, and the two of them plotted out the next course of action.

What he respected about Abigail was that she was just as business minded as he was. She knew how to get what she wanted, and she knew how to get the results she wanted. Charles saw a very bright future with Abigail and the band, and found that he was thankful that he trusted her before to get the job done.

But distractions always ended up coming into play, as most things did, and they had to get back up to the surface soon. The longer they were down here, the worse Charles feared things would become. He could only take so many more of the nights like he had with Nathan in the gym before he completely snapped. If Charles was on the edge of sanity, he knew everyone else was past it.

Being composed was what he was good at though, and this was absolutely no different. Everyone was sent off to their designated places once Charles could determine they would be safe. Skwisgaar and Toki were isolated inside an active mine field. Pickles was isolated in the Devil's cave, and Murderface was off in the submarine's corridors. Charles sent Nathan and Abigail into the recording studio.

The first two recordings ended up sounding a lot better than anything the boys had done before, and it was promising. Hell, it put everyone in the control room where Charles was in a far better mood, as Klokateers kept giving Charles reports on the vital signs of Toki, Pickles and Skwisgaar in the water, and playback from each of the microphones filled the room.

Charles was pleased. A better mood now would serve for a better mood later, an easier way for Charles to explain himself once and for all to Nathan, even if Nathan wouldn't believe it. He'd make Nathan believe it.

His personal assistant handed Charles a glass of water and a report from the record company, letting Charles know of the events the band would need to attend once they got up to the service. Everything else going around him was good. The vital signs were good. The sound was good.

That was, until Nathan's vocals cut out, and someone else's vocals came in.

Abigail's moans filled the room, and Charles' mood instantly crashed. His eyes went wide, and his hand squeezed tightly around the water glass, shattering it in his hand the moment he realized what was going on.

"Turn it off," Charles said, his voice not carrying as much as it would normally, and his personal assistant looked over to him.

"What, Sire?"

"_I said turn it off._" He commanded, and the sound was immediately cut. No one looked at Charles, he just had a look of rage on his face. Which, after a moment, the rage turned into disappointment, which turned into hurt. Well. He supposed that he deserved this.

"Sire, your hand, it's bleeding." His personal assistant noted, and Charles stood up, not making eye contact. He had never let his emotions get the better of him in front of the Klokateers before, and he wasn't going to acknowledge it now.

"I'll handle it." He said, and walked out of the room, picking out pieces of glass as he did so.

Later, when his hand was no longer wrapped up in a blood soaked tie, and was bandaged properly, he'd realize that he _didn't_ handle it. That he had never been able to handle the balance between personal and professional life, that ever since he had been back, he hadn't been able to handle anything at all. Charles had been sinking further and further since he had come back, and only Nathan had managed to help to slow that down. Nathan had kept him on solid ground.

Nathan had been hurt by Charles' actions and inaction, and now Charles was the one paying for not only his own foolish decisions, but the decisions Nathan was making as well.

He'd come to all of these realizations later, when he'd make the order to bring the submarine back up, because Abigail came into his room begging to get off the ship. He would do his best not to show his frustration towards her, because none of this was her fault, and she had done nothing wrong.

He'd later dwell on all of this when he was back in his office, behind locked door, sitting with his back against the door and a bottle of rum between his legs. He would then drink until he couldn't anymore, and wouldn't sleep, even if he desperately wanted to. He wouldn't allow himself. He had to make a choice, and then and there, he'd finally make it.

But right now, as Charles approached his sleeping quarters in the submarine, his fist flew into the wall.

The continued consequences of his actions would hit him later.


	21. Chapter 21

Just because Nathan was now obsessing over Abigail (or so it appeared), didn't make Charles' decision to cut off everything and everyone else any easier. He still had to have a working relationship with Abigail, after all. He actually managed to maintain in rather well, as she didn't have a clue as to what she had stepped into, and he wasn't about to tell her now.

It had become business as usual.

It had also become a time where they would have to promote the album, despite that it wasn't completed. Charles usually would be the one to give out the press releases, and he had been happy to do so again, but with the economy crashing, Roy Cornickelson demanded that the whole band come out for the dinner.

Charles had been nervous. He had been terrified, though not so much for being in close personal space with Nathan, as that wasn't on his mind anymore. Sure, the consequences hadn't made Charles' decision to stick to his choice any easier, but it was something that had to be done. If Nathan wanted to move on, then that was his decision. Charles had to protect what he still felt was his, and that was his job, his livelihood, his way of life – even if his life wasn't much to speak of outside of his work for the band and the church now.

But this dinner had been far too important. Too much was riding on the dinner, and Charles had tried his best to hold that back from the guys. Nathan though, had always been able to read him too well, and even though they weren't quite on speaking terms personally, he still called Charles out on how nervous he had become.

It had been unexpected, but it was something. An olive branch. They were adults, and they both had their own things to focus on now.

For a moment there, Charles had hoped the dinner would be fine. He never asked the band for anything, and while he worked for them and protected him, he never asked for anything in return. He had died for them, and never asked for anything. So, he had asked that this one night, this one thing, go well. It meant too much, and it meant too much to him.

He should have known that it would all go to shit. He should have seen everything coming, but what he didn't see coming, as he stared, jaw practically on the floor as Pickles screamed at Nathan and stormed out, that this was it. Not only had Charles' actions hurt Nathan, but Nathan's actions in retaliation got to Pickles, and had seemed to be the last straw.

Pickles stormed off, Murderface drunkenly followed, and the rest of the band followed suit. Charles just held his head in his hands at the table as Roy laid into him, disappointed that he couldn't keep the guys on task for one night. What kind of manager was he, that he couldn't manage the _one_ thing he had?

Charles sat at that table long after everyone left, and when he finally walked out, his footsteps echoed in the large hall.

Everything was falling apart and there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop it.

He was getting really sick of feeling like that.

The thing that had made him feel the worst about everything, was that as much as he wanted to say that he could have changed things and stopped everything from falling apart, is that he couldn't. Ishnifus constantly reminded Charles that everything had to happen for a reason, that even his own actions weren't always just his own.

It took Charles a long time to believe that, and it felt like it was an excuse to lay blame on someone or something else he couldn't see. He wasn't the type to just move on from his actions as if they meant nothing. Everything anyone did carried weight.

It didn't make watching the press conference the guys were having to announce their breakup any easier, and while he said he couldn't watch it, he couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt as though he now was not only failing the band, by helping them keep things together, but he was failing Ishnifus as well - without the prophecy moving along as foretold, there was no telling what would happen exactly.

Charles could tell he wasn't the only one feeling lost though, he could read it on everyone's faces as they went about their days, preparing for what would be the final concert. It held even more weight as they made their way to the concert venue. Roy spoke about what he had seen in the boys, and Charles stood by him with his hands clasped in front of himself, his eyes focused forward on the wall. Despite doing essentially everything that he could to try to serve both masters, Charles realized he failed them both.

He stood backstage, his hands in his pockets, watching the band for what might be the last time take the stage, watching Nathan for what might be the last time take the he watched them though, his hair on his arm stood up on it's ends. Something felt wrong.

Charles always trusted his instincts, and unfortunately, this instinct was dead on.

"Get the boys! You have trained for this, go!" He commanded the elite gears, as they ran past Charles onto the stage to form a line between the boys and that of Salecia, otherworldly and demon above them, foolish Roy dead beneath them. This was something he had always prepared for, he just never knew when it would happen, and as the gears ran towards the stage, Charles ran towards the command center, and ran towards the controls for the escape pods.

"Get to the water," Charles ordered, watching the screens as the boys were taken into the pods and brought back onto the bus, "Now."

All Charles was thinking about now was protecting his boys, protecting his livelihood, protecting himself. Trusting himself to get them to safety was the easiest part, because Charles knew he could and would do anything to get them all to that point. It was the destination that was going to prove difficult to explain.

Having narrowly escaped Salecia's grasp, they landed on the submarine and Charles evacuated the boys into the sub, a few elite gears following carrying Roy's body. Charles ordered the submarine to submerge, and shouted off coordinates to their destination. It was the only place they would be safe.

When they were well on their way, Charles found himself surrounded by the boys, nervous and, though they wouldn't admit to it, scared at what they had seen. This wasn't how he had wanted to explain things, but there was no other choice.

There wasn't time for questions. There wasn't time for answers. There wasn't time to figure out what happened, why they couldn't see it, what went wrong. All everyone knew was that _everything_ went wrong; it all fell apart at the end.

After the funeral, after the fight with the masked assassin, Charles watched in horror as Magnus stabbed Toki and Abigail. He couldn't protect them. He couldn't stop it, even though he had tried, he had fought and protected the other four, he still couldn't wipe the blood off his hands. Everything had happened so quickly, that he had no real time to react. All he knew that again, he failed.

It had been a week since Toki was taken, and Charles was spending every waking moment he had searching for him. He had Claire out with the elite gears, leading the ground search - no one questioned why the gear from legal was given a position, because no one had the nerve to question anything Charles was doing now - and Charles lead the search in the air and by sea. When they thought they had clues, they ended up coming up empty handed.

Ishnifus stayed at the church's location, but joined Charles when he could, checking in to see if there was another more that he could do. He was going over the prophecy and told Charles of something new that had come up, but Charles was too focused on how to fix what he blamed himself for to truly pay attention.

By the end of the first week, Claire practically forced Charles out of his seat, and while she still wore her hood, she spoke to him as his sibling. "You need to shower, eat something, rest. You're no good to me like this; you're no good to anyone like this."

Charles' personal assistant seemed to move to say something to Claire along the lines that she shouldn't talk to Charles in that way, but Charles waved him off. Claire was right. He couldn't help Toki if he couldn't focus all of his energy on finding him, and right now Charles had no energy left. He had some comfort in knowing that the search was going on without him, but even then he felt like he had to be the one to do lead the hunt.

Still, alone in his living quarters now, he obsessed over what he might be missing. His normally clean bedroom was covered in blueprints from the Tribunal, written passages of the prophecy, last seen sightings of Magnus and the assassin, even rumors of where Toki was (though these were not to be believed). Charles sat down on the couch, and immediately picked up the stack of papers he had on the table in front of him, starting to go through them. Somewhere in these papers, in these messages, emails, newspaper clippings, reports, sightings, there had to be a clue.

He was leaning forward, his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, when he heard a knock on the door. "Now isn't a good time." Charles said, though he didn't lift his head.

He was good at trusting his instincts, and he knew who was there. Despite everything, the man still made Charles' heart pound loudly.

"I don't care." Nathan said as he walked in and took a seat next to Charles. He set something down on the ground, and Charles lifted his head to see what it was – a six pack of beer, and Nathan was offering one.

Charles wanted to scream at him then, couldn't he find something better to do than drink? Couldn't he find a damn way to help? Instead, he just took the beer, twisting the top off with his hand, and tossed the cap on top of some papers. He took a drink and kept his eyes on the beer. "Why are you here?"

"I want…" Nathan trailed off, pausing and Charles wasn't about to cut into Nathan's train of thought. He had no idea what Nathan was thinking, because Charles wasn't even thinking clearly himself these days. He had one goal, and only one goal. Everything else had to be pushed to the side. "I want to know if you're okay."

Charles raised an eyebrow and looked over to Nathan, "What?" While he had known before, while they were still whatever they had been to each other, that Nathan cared in some respect, he didn't think he would ever actually hear it vocalized. "I'm fine."

"You're lying, and you look like fucking shit," Nathan pointed out, taking a drink from his beer, practically finishing half of it in one go. "I want the truth."

Shifting back into the couch, Charles set his beer between his knees and undid his tie, tossing it onto the table, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. He hadn't been bothering to cover up his scar on his face now, though he wasn't sure if anyone had noticed that much. He hadn't been around the others enough for them to know. At this point, Charles knew he had no reason to hold back. He held back before and it cost him, and even when he told the boys everything, they still ended up losing Toki. "No."

"No?"

"No, Nathan, I'm not fine." Charles picked his beer back up and drank from it, before picking at the label. He inhaled sharply, holding his breath in as he looked up at the papers in front of him, and he realized that it might have been the first time in a year, possibly more, that he had admitted that. It wasn't just what happened a week ago, it was everything that had happened.

There was a pause between the two of them, and the fact that this was the first conversation they had in private since the submarine incident weeks ago was not lost on Charles. He wasn't sure if Nathan was having the same reaction.

"Uhhhh," Nathan started, and Charles glanced over to him.

"What."

"So, are you dead?"

"What?"

"You said you were known as –"

"Oh." Charles cleared his throat, "Do I look dead? No, it's…the name in the prophecy."

"But, you died."

"Yes."

Nathan took a large drink from the beer, finishing it off with his second drink and put the bottle on the floor. "What was it like?"

The question seemed innocent enough, but Charles couldn't help but flinch slightly. "You, well…" Charles shifted, taking another drink from his beer, taking a note from Nathan and taking a large drink before continuing, "Remember the, ah, nightmares I had?"

The memory of what they had shared months earlier, the good and the bad, wasn't something that Charles particularly wanted to relive, and apparently Nathan didn't either, as the other man's eyes fell to his hands for a moment as Charles continued, "That was what it was like. It wasn't…natural. I can't explain it." Charles' eyes dropped to Nathan's hands, and then dropped to his own holding his beer, before he finished the beer and held out his hand for another.

Nathan complied and handed Charles another beer. "Okay." Nathan watched as Charles opened the other beer and took another long drink. "So, is that where you've been going on those trips? That church?"

Charles just nodded.

"And the weird drawings on the wall are true."

Charles nodded again.

There was a tension between the two of them, and it was understandable. But as much as Charles wanted to give Nathan all the answers that he wanted – finally – he still wondered what exactly it would help. It wouldn't get them any closer to finding Toki and Abigail. It wouldn't help Nathan realize why Charles had to do what he did.

Or maybe, it would.

Charles hadn't realized that they had both been silent until Nathan cleared his throat. It brought Charles back to the present and he took another drink before looking at Nathan.

"Who was that woman?" Nathan finally asked, and Charles' expression changed.

"I don't really see why that matters anymore, Nathan." Charles spoke, his eyes focusing away from Nathan, focusing on the beer in his hand.

"Because it fucking matters," Nathan shot back, "You told everyone what happened when you left, you told us all about this…whatever the hell it was, and you can't tell me the one thing that matters?"

"How is _that_ the one thing that matters?" Charles snapped, his frustration coming through, "I gave up my life _for you_. I went looking for clues to what was going on so I could make sure _you_ were okay. I have spent the past year struggling with what the hell I am now, _for you_. I have wanted nothing to more to just protect you and the boys, and to stop whatever it is that is coming next and you want to focus on who the damn woman was? I don't even know what I am to you anymore, so why does this matter exactly?"

Charles finished his beer and pushed off the couch, walking away from Nathan, walking towards the papers piled on the table by the window, a computer there as well giving up-to-date information on the search and anything that had happened while he was gone. There was nothing new to report. He heard Nathan slam down his empty beer bottle and stand up, and Charles crossed his arms as he watched Nathan come towards him.

"Just tell me," Nathan growled behind gritted teeth, and Charles laughed. It was an emotion that he didn't expect to have, but it happened all the same.

"Her name is Claire." Charles finally answered.

"The gear has a name?" Nathan asked, "You fucked a gear? I'll fucking kill her—"

"You will do nothing of the sort, and I was not 'fucking' her, that's disgusting."

"Disgusting cause you're not into women?"

"Disgusting because she's my goddamn sister, Nathan!"

There it was. Nathan's facial expressions completely changed from anger to confusion, and Charles' emotions ran the gambit from blaming himself for not correcting Nathan when he originally had the chance, to hurt that Nathan had assumed Charles would have been with anyone else in the first place.

"Your…" Nathan started, but just stopped, confused.

Charles sighed and leaned against the wall, rubbing his brow for a moment, "She's been a gear for seven years. Earned the title like all the others have."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Nathan asked, and Charles knew better of what Nathan was really trying to ask. _Why didn't you tell me?_

"The…Tribunal would have found out. They would have had her killed. I couldn't risk that. It's not that I didn't trust you boys. It is that I didn't trust _anyone_."

Nathan took a few steps back until his feet hit the side of the couch, and he fell to sit on the armrest of the couch, and just looked at Charles.

Charles sighed, "Nathan, you have to believe me when I say she was all the ties I had left to my past life. She's all the family that I had at the time."

"At the time."

"Yes."

"What about now?"

"Does now matter?" Charles asked as he pushed off the wall and walked in Nathan's direction. He ended up walking past him, getting his beer and handed Nathan another one, sinking into the couch behind where Nathan sat on the arm rest, though still a distance between them. "What matters is finding Toki, and finishing the album, putting a stop to everything—"

Nathan shifted and fell off the armrest back onto the couch, practically falling on Charles in the process, seemingly doing it as planned. "You look like shit." Nathan said, looking Charles over and rested his hand on his shoulder.

"You interrupted me to tell me that I look like shit?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, okay."

Nathan drank and pointed a finger towards Charles, "You need to slow down."

Charles raised an eyebrow, "I need to slow down? Nathan, there are…Toki and Abigail are gone and we are not going to find them by just sitting here." He cleared his throat and moved to get off the couch, but Nathan put his hand on his chest and pushed him back down.

"You're not going anywhere."

"Nathan, we can't just—"

"You're not going anywhere, Charles." A third voice spoke, and Claire stepped into the room, dressed in her suit still, her arms crossed, but hood off. She shared a glance with Nathan, who nodded.

"Claire, what are you doing, you—" Charles tried to get back up off the couch but Nathan just pushed him down again, and Charles looked at Nathan and then at Claire, "You told him?"

"Yeah," She said with a shrug as she walked into the room more, adjusting her glasses for a moment. "I ended up confronting Nathan yesterday. Or I think he confronted me."

Nathan just grunted, and nodded.

Claire shrugged, "Anyway, I explained to him the situation, why I was here, and that I didn't mean to cause anything between the two of you. Which," She brought her attention to Nathan, "I think he finally got once I beat it into him. So that brings me to our other topic of conversation," She came up to the table where the papers were, and glanced down at them, picking up one noting the last sighting of the Revengencers. "_You_."

"Me? Claire. Nathan. This...ah, this is strange, and for the record I was going to explain things, just now is not the time."

"You're no good to us dead, Charles. Despite you thinking that that _might_ have worked the first time, yeah, no. It didn't." Claire raised an eyebrow, waving the paper in her hand around for a moment before dropping it back to the table. "I asked Nathan to look after you. You need to rest and you need to get your energy back."

So that was why Nathan had come in, because Claire asked him to. Charles wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse about everything. He decided that either way, it was a losing battle to even try to think of it logically.

"Fine." Charles said, as he finally just allowed himself to be defeated, which wasn't too hard for him to accomplish. Nathan's hand moved away from Charles' chest, and ended up very slightly resting on top of Charles' hand on the couch cushions between them.

"I promise if we get something, I will let you know. I promise you." Claire sighed and pulled her hood back on, "Do you know how hard it is to wear glasses under this fucking thing? Maybe I should get contacts."

Charles rolled his eyes in Claire's direction, and dropped his glance, his eyes finally falling on the position of his hand with Nathan's.

"I'll see myself out," Claire said, and nodded towards Nathan, "Brought you more beer, it's in the office." Soon after Claire left, the office door shut and was locked behind her.

Nathan stood up going out to the office and came back into the room with the beer, but also a few movies as well.

"Nathan, you really don't need to do this," Charles said, watching Nathan's every move around the office. He knew the intention wasn't to make him feel worse about the situation, but Charles couldn't help but think that he had to focus on other things, not on himself or whatever else was presenting itself to him. He had made his decision, and he needed to stick to it.

"Shut up, will you?" Nathan sat back down next to Charles and handed him a beer, while he finished his own and opened another. He put an arm around Charles' shoulders, "Relax. Your sister is fucking terrifying, you know that?"

"I taught her everything, you know." Charles said, raising an eyebrow towards Nathan.

Nathan laughed. "I know. That's why she's terrifying."

"Nathan, you can't tell anyone about her. Even you knowing could be bad, it could jeopardize everything if—"

Charles' worried ramblings was interrupted by Nathan's lips on his own. Unsure as to how he should react at first, his eyes were wide before he closed them and gave in, the fast but passion-filled kiss ending as soon as it began. Charles went to ask what Nathan thought he was doing, why he was doing this, why he was really here, but Nathan gave him a look that made him decide against it.

"We're watching a movie," Nathan stated in a matter-of-fact way, "You're going to relax, and you're not going to ask any fucking questions tonight. Deal?"

"One question. Just, ah, just one."

"Uhhhh, fine."

"Stay here tonight."

Nathan offered a small grin, "That's not, uh, a question."

Charles offered a small, be it a little weak, grin in return. "I know."

While he felt guilty doing this, falling back into old routines (if it could have been called that), Charles knew Claire was ultimately right. He was no good to anyone in a weakened position, and he needed the energy he had to find Toki, and to do what was needed to be done.

Which was why, deep down, he knew this couldn't last.

For now, he'd enjoy it while he could.


	22. Chapter 22

The search went on for months, and just when Charles thought they were close to finding Toki, he was wrong. How could he have let this happen? He had one job, to protect the band, and he couldn't even do that. Charles' self-worth was dwindling, but he did his best not to let that show. He was exhausted, but only three people really noticed just how exhausted he was. Once a week, he let Claire take over and force him out of his seat and back to his quarters, and once a week Nathan would come join him.

They didn't talk about anything of importance anymore, as Charles was still trying to focus on the more important task at hand, and Nathan wasn't sure what to say. They were still trying to rebuild the trust that had been there between them that Charles had destroyed (and subsequently Nathan as well), but that was proving to be more difficult than it should have been.

Charles was the first person to admit that there were consequences of his actions, but he didn't have the time to resolve them.

After a while, Charles refused to leave his place at the control room, and Claire stopped trying to get Charles to relax. He continued to send out search teams, and went on a few of the searches himself, but they still came back empty handed.

What troubled him more was the newest part of the prophecy that Ishnifus had just revealed. If Charles had been told of the Doomstar before, he would have dismissed it. It wasn't logical for such a thing to be believed, and he was far too logical to allow himself to even entertain the idea of it. But things had changed drastically. He had seen what the half man was capable of, he had seen what he himself was capable of, and he had seen evidence beyond a doubt that everything in this prophecy was true.

So when he was presented with the latest findings, Charles' face dropped. One of them must die. Of course the prophecy said nothing about who would die, but with how it was the one line everyone kept repeating, Charles knew it would happen.

Ishnifus had called Charles to the church one day to tell him that everything had been set in motion, and gestured to the sky. It was there, bright as day, blue and glowing – the doomstar. There was tightness in Charles' chest that he couldn't shake, and the feeling of dread was only getting worse. They were running out of time.

The two men spoke at length about a plan, anything that could get things in motion, but there was none. Charles sent out his best men to track the few clues that they had, but clues were running thin. They had almost exhausted every lead. Still, Ishnifus had an idea, but he wanted to see where things could go first. Despite Charles asking him to tell him of the idea, Ishnifus simply said 'you will know in time'.

As Charles returned to Mordhaus later that day, and back to the control room, he only hoped that time would be soon. It had taken them too long, and he worried that any longer, and they'd lose the two people they were fighting so hard to get back alive.

It was a little absurd to know that their best tracker was dead, but it was almost genius (on Magnus' part, Charles begrudgingly had to admit) to place the drive in the tracker's torso. In the background of Magnus' video, there were Toki and Abigail, worse for the wear, but certainly alive. It just wasn't clear how much longer they would be alive, and Charles was too nervous to take any additional chances.

He knew everything about the assassin and Magnus, and yet he couldn't seem to find out where they were. There were things that even seemed out of Charles' reach, and that was frustrating him to no end. The message had been the last straw – he had failed. Charles had failed the band, he failed at his work, he quite possibly failed as the man he had thought he was supposed to be.

Ishnifus had finally joined Charles at Mordhaus though, and finally let him know of his plan.

The priest had asked to have a private audience with Charles, and Charles reluctantly agreed, leaving his post for the first time in months, as they went into a back room. "The band needs to be a part of this. They must be the ones to find him, and to save him."

Charles crossed his arms, "They are a part of this, as much as any of us are."

"Then why are you the only one searching tirelessly for them?" Ishnifus asked, looking at Charles, "My friend, there is only so much you can do, _they_ need to find him. Not you."

"Okay." Charles said, "Then I'll go with them. They're not prepared for anything like the assassin; if they face him alone they will be killed."

"Someone will go with them as a guide, but it will not be you, my friend."

"Excuse me?" Charles' eyes narrowed as he looked over the priest, "These are my boys, they need me. Who else will help them?"

The priest did not look phased by Charles' glare, "I will. I know far more than you think I do about these boys and the situation we all find ourselves in. You cannot go with them, you are far too valuable."

"Too valuable? Ishnifus, you could _die_, I'm not letting you go out there—"

"My friend, I am afraid this is not your choice to make." Ishnifus reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a folded set of papers and handed them to Charles. "There is more about your role in all of this that you do not know, and now is the time you do."

Charles sighed heavily, rubbing his brow, "It's always something else I don't know. What else are you keeping from me?" He snatched the papers from Ishnifus and unfolded them, and glanced over the papers, before looking back up at Ishnifus with his eyes wider than before. This couldn't be right.

"You now know everything my friend. You know what we have to do."

Charles folded up the pieces of paper and put them in his pocket, and nodded. "I'll gather the boys. You'll need to talk to them in person."

"Charles, you can't be serious!"

Claire was one of the only people in the control room now, with Charles being the other person. He had dismissed the Klokateers, telling them to focus on the defenses of the house, as well as continue their training. There was a chance they would all be called into battle again, and there wasn't anything else that they could do right now.

Her hood was off and on the floor, her deep red hair pulled up in a ponytail, and she sat at one of the consoles around the room, though her back was to it. Charles was sitting where he always was, but rested his head against his hand. "You really cannot be serious." She repeated herself, shaking her head.

"I am serious. We talked about a backup plan if something happened—"

"But we didn't even put that into place when something actually _did_ happen!" Claire exclaimed, "I'm not doing this!"

"Claire, what if we don't have a choice? What if what Ishnifus said will happen, actually happens? I need someone that I can trust."

"Well fuck you, find someone else, I'm not doing it." Claire snapped, "I'm not doing your dirty work anymore!"

Charles shifted in his chair, "Claire, you've never done my dirty work. I've done my own dirty work, I think that's perfectly clear by now."

"Alright. Fine. But I'm still not going to step in, just like that. What if I wanted to give all this up?"

"If you did, why are you still here?"

"Because you need me."

"We both know that's not the reason." Charles looked over to his sister, and cleared his throat. "I think we are both here because of what this stands for, and the work we are doing. I think you understand this a lot better than you're allowing yourself to acknowledge."

"So, what you're saying, is that I'm you?"

"What I'm saying is that we're related, it makes sense that we have similar coping mechanisms." He sighed, "I need someone I can trust, and I trust you. That's all there is to it."

Claire pressed her lips together, frowning, as she pulled her hair out of her ponytail. She couldn't exactly have her hair up when she had the hood on, it got uncomfortable. "Alright. I'll do it. But you'll still be around, right?"

"I hope." The tone of his voice was that of worry, concern, and wasn't the confident tone that Claire was used to, and that was what worried her the most.


	23. Chapter 23

"My friend, I do not think that is wise…" Ishnifus called out after Charles, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Charles was on a mission, and it didn't seem like it was going to be a particularly happy one.

He stormed down the hallway until he came across Nathan in his bedroom, and ignored all politeness, "What the hell is this?" Charles demanded, as he held up his dethphone, displaying Nathan's message.

Nathan looked up from whatever he was doing at his desk in the corner of the room and shrugged. "It says that—"

"I am _well_ aware of what it says, Nathan," Charles said as he stormed over to Nathan's desk, and slammed his hands on the wood. Nathan flinched, and Charles just stared at him. "Are you aware of what you are doing? You have to do this. You don't have a choice."

"We just, uhhhhh, know that you'll handle it."

"I'll handle it." Charles repeated, unable to believe what was going on right now, and more importantly, the way that Nathan seemed to be handling things. Charles understood grief, and he understood the different stages of it, but he had never felt like he just could roll over and let someone else take a stand for him. He wondered if that was what he had always done for the boys, fought their battles for them.

The scars on his body would agree that yes, he had always done that. His heart would tell him something completely different.

"What if I'm not around to handle it, Nathan?" Charles shot back, shaking his head, "What if I _can't_, what if this is not up to me? I won't always be around, when will you realize this?"

"You weren't around before, and you came back." Nathan pointed out, "So, uhhh, you're better at this than we are. So if you could just…"

"No." Charles snapped, and crossed his arms over his chest, standing tall in front of Nathan. "What if that was me that had been taken? Would you have still had the same reaction?"

Nathan started to talk but Charles cut him off, "No, I suppose you wouldn't since Abigail was also taken and you don't seem to be in any rush to go get the woman you're into either."

"What?"

Charles shook his head, "There are things bigger than us going on now, Nathan, and this isn't about you. This is about Toki, this is about Abigail, this is about…" He trailed off, and shook his head.

Nathan stood up from his desk, and pointed at Charles, "What makes you think that I wouldn't jump into action if it were you?"

"You won't jump into action for whatever Abigail is to you, and you won't for Toki, who is your bandmate and family –"

"—stop saying that—"

"—so why on earth would you come after someone you've known for over a decade and has risked his _life_ for you?" Charles laughed harshly, "Nathan, open your damn eyes."

"Stop!" Nathan's fists slammed into the desk, leaving a dent. Charles didn't move at all, he just stared at Nathan. The front man growled, "You have no idea what I'd do. I'd fight for you!"

Charles raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe you. You're not fighting for the people you actually care about, Nathan. None of you are."

"Fuck you; I don't give a shit what you think."

"Then prove me wrong!" Charles threw up his hands in frustration, "Prove me wrong and do what is right!"

Nathan was still leaned over his desk, his fists still planted into the wood frame, "You fight for what you think is worth protecting," Nathan repeated Charles' past words back to him, "you told me that."

"Then _do it_. Prove to me that you care, go after them." Charles turned and left the room, without giving Nathan as second look, and shut the door behind him.

Nathan watched Charles leave the room, and jumped a little when the door shut hard behind the manager. It had been bad enough that Nathan had realized that everything that he had done in retaliation to Charles – thinking Charles was with someone else, when it turned out that someone else was his sister, well that was pretty damn embarrassing. But Charles hadn't said anything, so how was Nathan to know? He wasn't a mind reader. No one was! Well, maybe Charles was, but Nathan wasn't completely convinced on that.

He still wasn't convinced he could just go out and save Toki and Abigail like the robed guy and Charles were asking them to do. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't someone who could just run out and save someone, fight someone else to the death, and while it was all fucking metal, he couldn't do it. It wasn't who he was. That was who _Charles_ was. Charles had given his life for the band, and he came back with some magic whatever from the priest and the weird church, and then he just continued to do what he had always done. Nathan wasn't the hero; he wasn't half the hero Charles was.

Maybe that was why Charles had seemed so angry about things. That had to be it. And while Nathan actually might have cared for Abigail, something he wouldn't admit freely, even if Pickles overheard him from time to time, he cared more for Charles. But he had fucked that whole thing up, so what was the damn point?

He wasn't the man Charles wanted him to be, and Nathan wasn't sure the type of man that _he_ wanted himself to be. What he wanted right now was another drink, because he hated this tight feeling in his chest. He could apologize to Pickles and was able to get him back, but he couldn't apologize and reason with Charles to get _him_ back, and he couldn't seem to be bothered to go a rescue Toki either.

Drinking. Drinking would help.

Charles watched from the sidelines of the latest concert, shaking his head in disapproval as the boys utilized the virtual reality technology he had developed for their Middle East concert. It seemed the fans were just as frustrated as Charles was, so at least he felt slightly vindicated in that fact, but it didn't change the notion that Toki and Abigail were still out there, and the boys practically refused to help.

He had fought with Ishnifus earlier in the day before the show, saying that he was just going to step in and find Toki, and end this. If he had to be the one who died, then so be it. That could be his part instead of what Ishnifus had in mind. Of course, always Ishnifus talked reason to Charles, and Charles backed down but it didn't make watching the show any easier.

That was, until Nathan announced what they planned to do – they were going to save Toki.

Once the guys got backstage, Charles addressed them all, "We have a lot to do, and there is very little time. We have to get started."

He threw the boys in with the training with the elite gears, the same training that Charles ran almost every day for the better half of a decade. Nathan took to it surprisingly well, but that was mostly because Charles had already had a one-on-one training with him – something Pickles kept bringing up and teasing Nathan for, until Nathan decided to punch Pickles and demanded that the drummer focus on what was important. That made Charles smirk a bit. At least some of the things he was saying were coming through.

At one point, even Claire came to join them, bringing more gears with her, and they trained right alongside the band and everyone else. It was a strange group effort that Charles didn't actually see coming, but they were running out of time. He was reminded of this with each passing hour, and they trained for two days straight before Ishnifus finally told them that it was time.

Charles, not one to let the boys go out really on their own, not without weapons, let them know there were items they could use, and let Edgar explain them all. Which, turned into Edgar lecturing them all about the importance of brothers, and while he was ranting at them, Charles caught Claire paying more attention to him than what Edgar was saying.

The fact of the matter was, they had done everything that they could to prepare the boys, and Charles hated what was going to come next. He hated it, because he knew this was going to be the final nail for one of them – though he already knew who that fate would come to.

His hand moved to his pocket, where it wrapped around the folded papers still there, and he inhaled deeply, as he looked over to Ishnifus. The other man nodded, and Charles walked towards the boys, who were ready and prepared to head out as soon as possible.

"Before you go, I need your attention."

_Two hours before_

Charles watched over the training, letting one of the gears he had trained well to step in, as Ishnifus put a hand on his shoulder. "My friend, it's time."

Turning to look at him, Charles cleared his throat. "Are you sure?" Somewhere, he wanted more time. He knew it wasn't in the cards, or the prophecy as it were, but the feeling in his chest only got worse. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to let them go without him, and he didn't want to do what would come next.

"Yes, we don't have much time, it has to be tonight or we miss our chance. We will all be doomed."

"Ah."

"You are prepared for this."

"Are _you_?" Charles snapped back, furrowing his brow, "You don't have to do this; I could very easily do this for you."

Ishnifus smiled knowingly, "There is nothing more you can do, and you are now needed elsewhere. You are needed for bigger things, my friend."

"I know." Charles paused for a long moment, "I didn't get to thank you."

"You didn't need to."

Ishnifus left Charles to attend to something, leaving Charles alone to watch over the trainings. In a few hours, the boys and Ishnifus would be off to get Toki and Abigail. Hopefully, in a few hours, this whole thing would be over and the next stage would start. There were things to do and things to prepare for, but it hit Charles that it just wasn't his job to do that anymore.

He had always struggled with the fact that he couldn't serve two masters. He couldn't be the protector of the boys, while taking protection for himself. He had failed his contract by letting something happen to them, no matter how much of it was out of his control. He couldn't be in two places at once, and after tonight, he wouldn't be anymore.

A decision had been made, and he had decided to make yet another personal sacrifice. It was for the best, and it was the only way he could make sure that the church still stood for Dethklok's best interests. The only way to control something that had such a stake in the band was to control it from the inside.

Charles looked over to Claire, watching her train with the other Klokateers and the band, and he wished that he at least had a private moment to say goodbye to her. He had left some things for her in his office, but that had been the best he could do given the circumstances.

All that was left now was for him to do what needed to be done, and to hope for the best.

So, now it was time for Charles to give the boys the last thing he had, even if he didn't want them to have it: his resignation.


	24. Chapter 24

By the time Charles was finally ready to go, the boys had already left on their journey to find Toki and Abigail. That gave him time to get things settled, pack what things he needed, and finish up his last few things. There wasn't much left for him to do now, he just had to go to the church and wait.

But he could get some things in order. Do what he could for when everything tried to return back to normal at Mordhaus for when he wasn't there.

He headed for his office, and when he arrived there, he found the door to already be open. He wasn't surprised when he walked in and he saw Claire, wearing her street clothes, looking over the files on his desk. "I thought you would have left already," Claire said softly, looking up to see Charles walk in.

"I needed to get a few things, and I had to finish something." Even though he was already changed into his street clothes, there were still some things from his bedroom that he wanted. His saber, for one, was coming with him. His gun. He wasn't sure how many personal possessions he was allowed to have where he was going, but he wasn't going to go somewhere that he didn't have protection. That just wasn't the way that he was.

Claire nodded, going back to the paperwork that Charles had left for her to look over and he disappeared into his bedroom and pulled together a duffel bag of the things he wanted and needed, and picked up his gun from the bedside table, putting it under his belt.

There were a lot of memories here and that was the hardest thing to leave behind. He threw the bag over his shoulder as he looked over to his bed, remembering coming back that first night, sitting up in bed and staring over to Nathan who was in the doorway. Charles coming back, being resurrected, changed everything and that wasn't lost on him.

He took longer than expected in the bedroom, but finally left, grabbing a sealed envelope he had left on the bedside table on his way out. As he walked into the office, Claire was still there, her glasses off, a familiar look on her face that Charles recognized as one of his own – a look of worry and stress. "You're going to be fine." He said as he walked over to her, and she shrugged.

"It's not me that I'm worried about."

"I know." Charles nodded, and handed Claire the envelope. "Can you make sure he gets this? I don't know when I'll see him, or any of you, next."

Claire cleared her throat and nodded, taking the envelope that was addressed to Nathan in Charles' neat handwriting. "Yeah."

"Thanks."

Claire just nodded again. Charles took one last look around his office before he headed out, into the hallway, and soon down out the front door of Mordhaus.

It was the waiting that was killing him. Not actually killing him, of course, because Ishnifus made sure to it that Charles wasn't the one who was going to die tonight. Despite the fact that Charles felt in his heart that it was what he had to do, Ishnifus had to get him to see that maybe there was far more that he still needed to accomplish.

The papers of the prophecy told him that much. How exactly a dead man was supposed to run a church, Charles wasn't particularly sure, but oddly enough he found himself prepared for it. He couldn't just think logically on a normal level anymore, he had to start thinking more spiritually. He had to start opening his mind to things that he didn't think existed – he had experienced a lot in the past decade, and nothing really should surprise him anymore.

Still, the waiting was killing him. He was used to having eyes on everything, knowing what was going on, how the boys were; he was used to having control over the situation.

Now, he was blind. He was blind to what the boys were doing, he was blind to what was going on, all he had was the doomstar glowing blue above them. Even that didn't tell him anything – what would a glowing blue star tell him?

He spent a lot of time talking to the monks, discussing the prophecy and acquainting himself with it. He asked for news, any sort of news, but there was none. Still holding onto his dethphone, he sent a message to Claire, but there was nothing new.

The monks offered Charles new clothes, but he refused them. "We don't know that they won't all survive this," He kept saying, though he knew what the truth was.

So they waited. He watched the star.

Soon, the star changed. The monks around him started to chant in Latin, the same as they had been chanting for days, and Charles looked up to see the star change from the bright blue to a violent red, seeming to be bigger and brighter than it was before.

It hit him that what Ishnifus had told him about had come true. The chants around him got louder, and he noticed the monks were actually walking towards him. Charles started to back up, until he was in the middle of the pentagram outline on the Church's floor, and didn't have time to react as the doomstar activated.

What Ishnifus had told him was that the doomstar would activate once the guys reunited, giving them their dethlights. What Ishnifus didn't tell Charles that as he was part of the prophecy as well, he'd be hit with the same thing.

A flash of light came down and crashed into Charles, lifting him up, his eyes glowing a bright white – much like what Charles had seen in Ishnifus months ago. The light disappeared and Charles fell to the ground, but landed perfectly. He pushed himself off the ground, standing up, his eyes still holding a faint white glow around them, and suddenly he understood.

He understood everything that Ishnifus was talking about, he understood why this prophecy was so important, and he finally understood his role in all of this. He was not elevated to the demigod status that the boys were now, but he knew how he could help them.

A monk approached Charles, holding out a set of red robes, and Charles took them. "We have a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it," Charles told the monk, who nodded.

Later, there would be a ceremony, and he would be presented with Ishnifus' medallion, though he wouldn't ask how it got back to the church. He would stand up in his robes, and the monks would bow around him. He'd remove his hood and actually smile. There would be things to do, and he finally knew what to do.

He'd be sent word from Claire that the band had returned, and everyone was alive and well. She would tell him that the boys seemed more determined than ever to get started on the last song, and she'd say that she would let him know when it was completed.

Charles would then reply and tell Claire that she was doing a good job, even if she hadn't told the others who she was yet. She'd ask him how he knew that, and he wouldn't respond.

He'd finally understand why Ishnifus was the way he was.

But for now, the robes were heavy in his hands as he walked back to what was now his new living quarters. Putting on the robes, he felt strange, but somehow it felt right.

He might not be living in Mordhaus anymore, but he had his ways to continue to protect his boys, and now he had all the power behind him (and possibly more) to do it.

This didn't make him wish things were only slightly different though.


	25. Chapter 25

The weird part about all of this was that Nathan didn't feel any different. Yeah, sure, he knew what happened, with the dethlights and all. God status or something. He was there. He saw it. He saw Ishnifus get killed, he saw Magnus with a pipe through his chest, and he saw Toki and Abigail near death. Rescuing them wasn't something that he had thought they were capable of doing, but they did it. They did it on their own, and did the impossible.

Blah, blah. Okay, maybe not that, he couldn't dismiss all of what happened so easily, but it wasn't metal to remember things like that. Especially if he didn't completely understand it. But everyone was back now. Toki was struggling with getting reacquainted with everything, and Skwisgaar was spending most of his time with Toki trying to help. That usually ended with screaming and things being thrown, because Toki was still shook up after everything. Skwisgaar seemed to be determined to help Toki though, and wouldn't leave his side, so at least that was a good thing.

It also sucked that one of the first things Toki asked for was wondering where Charles was. The poor kid came back, wanting everything how it was and it wasn't. Nathan had been the one to tell Toki that Charles wasn't with them anymore, and the way he worded it made it sound to Toki like their former manager was dead. Nathan very quickly fixed that issue, but the bigger question was one he didn't have an answer to.

He had no idea where Charles was.

They were operating without a manager now, but they still managed to complete the song and perform a concert to prove that they were still around. Kicking ass. Taking names. Killing assassins with big fucking lights coming out of them, no big deal. Now the album just needed to be completed, but Abigail was still too shook up to do anything with that either.

People were taking time to heal. It didn't help that Nathan, even though he had accepted Abigail's kiss as a way of thanking him for saving her life, told Abigail that he couldn't be interested in her anymore. They decided to keep things professional, and while Abigail was shocked at being turned down, it looked like she might have been relieved by all of it. Either way, she was still keeping her distance right now.

Someone else that was keeping their distance was Charles' sister. If anyone might have known where Charles was, it would have been her, and Nathan couldn't find her. He couldn't exactly ask the other Klokateers who she was by name, because they didn't know her name. Her number had been too damn long for him to remember, so that was out of the question too.

Sometimes, he'd walk past the office, hoping to see Charles sitting behind his desk again, but that never happened. Nathan knew it felt a bit like when Charles died before, but it was different now. Charles was alive, somewhere. He had to be. It made the most sense. He would have known if Charles died again, right?

Yeah. He'd know. He was a God or some shit, didn't they know that stuff?

"Master, you're wanted in the conference room," the Klokateer's voice bringing Nathan out of his thoughts and he looked up from his desk and just nodded, as the Klokateer walked away. Nathan stood up, pushing away from his desk and headed out of the room, down the hall. It was there that he ran into Pickles, heading in the same direction.

"Who do ya think' is callin' us in there?" Pickles asked, as he fell in line with Nathan, "Offdensen's gone, we ain't got anybody else yet."

Nathan shrugged, "I don't know, maybe it's the label or some shit."

When they entered the conference room, Murderface, Toki, and Skwisgaar were already there, Toki sitting closer to Skwisgaar than he normally did, but Nathan didn't think anything of it. In what was normally Charles' seat though, a woman was sitting. Her business suit was the same color as Charles', though she wore a hood.

Pickles scoffed as he sat down, "What is a gear doin' here? Who the hell are ya, lady?"

Nathan sat down and just stared at the woman, knowing perfectly who she was. His eyes fell to the papers in front of her, and to a sealed envelope resting on top of the papers with his name on it. His name, written in what Nathan recognized as Charles' hand writing.

"I'm your new manager." The Klokateer said, and she took off her hood, "and I'd prefer that you call me Claire, and not 'lady'." She adjusted her glasses, and fixed her hair, letting it out down around her shoulders.

"A lady manager?" Murderface laughed, "What's a lady know about the business?"

"What do you know about it, William?" She responded back, in the same tone that Charles would use to reprimand the boys now and then, and Nathan actually laughed.

Claire noticed this, looking to Nathan when he did, and she grinned towards him.

"What the hells is goings on?" Skwisgaar asked.

"Well, boys, as you are well aware, Charles resigned from this position. He appointed me to take his place. I've been working in legal for almost eight years and-"

"What makes him think he can do that?" Pickles demanded, "He left us, he can't decide who takes his place!"

"Ah, well…"

As Claire started to talk, Nathan couldn't take it anymore, "She's his fucking sister, alright? One Offdensen is better than no Offdensen, so let the lady talk."

The look of shock on the other guys' faces were enough to make Claire actually laugh, though she quickly caught herself and cleared her throat after. "Listen, I know there are a lot of questions, and right now I can't answer them all. Or…any of them, I have another meeting to get to, but I promise you that I will answer all of your questions soon. Okay. You can…go now."

It was clear that everyone else was still confused, and they'd all talk about it later when Claire wasn't around, but for now, Nathan just wanted to get out of there.

Or he would have been able to, if he could get out of his seat. He just kept staring at the envelope with his name on it. Claire caught this look, and waited for everyone else to leave the room before she slid the envelope over to Nathan. "He asked me to give you this before he left. I haven't opened it, so I don't know what it says. Also, I'm sure Charles would have my head if he knew I tried to read his letter."

The envelope slid to a stop in front of Nathan, and his finger ran over his name for a moment, just staring at the letter. He looked up at Claire, "You know where he is, don't you."

"Um. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to let you know."

"Tell me."

Claire shrugged, "Fine. I don't know what you'll do with this information, but just don't do anything stupid."

Nathan stared at her.

She flinched. "Damn, am I going to need to get used to that look? Jesus. Fine. Do you remember where the Church of the Black Klok was located?"

"He's there?" Nathan asked, and raised an eyebrow. He remembered picking up Ishnifus' medallion on the wall out of the old recording space, and he handed it off to someone once they got back to Mordhaus, but he couldn't remember what happened to it after that.

"Yes. That's all I know." Claire stood up, gathering the papers she had, and held them closed to her with her right arm, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"I don't…know what you wouldn't do." Nathan said, confused, and this made Claire grin.

"I know. That's the point." She nodded towards Nathan and walked out of the room, leaving Nathan alone with the letter sitting in front of him.

It was odd, but Nathan was actually scared to open the letter. It felt too much like a final goodbye, and Nathan had never really been prepared for that. He had come a long way since he had watch Charles in the dark years ago, and now all that was left was the letter in front of him. It was no mistake that Nathan wasn't good at admitting his emotions. Ultimately, he was a guy who thought a lot, but didn't say much. So bringing on the fact that he had these emotions to deal with, it made for a volatile combination.

It was that reason that he had reacted as he had in the dethsub, because he needed to act out. He couldn't actually tell Charles anything of what he actually felt, because emotions weren't metal and despite the fact that he trusted Charles, he couldn't do it. Hell, a bunch of the stuff that he did with Charles was metal in its own right, but feeling this…_emotion_ wasn't.

He had been angry, assuming Charles was sleeping with someone else, and acted out the only way he could, by trying to get with someone else. Of course, that hadn't gone over well. But if it hadn't happened, he could have never apologized to Pickles at all, or to anyone, about any of the things he had done in the past. In a fucked up way, Charles got him to apologize.

So why couldn't he just apologize to him?

Nathan finally gave in and opened the letter, and started to read. It was awkward at first, it was clear that Charles didn't know what to write, and was just writing what he thought of. Nathan did that sometimes with songs, and sometimes they were really brutal and awesome, and he kept them. Maybe that was what Charles had been doing with the letter.

As the letter continued though, it started to delve into what apparently Charles hadn't been able to say before either. _I'm sorry that I have to leave. I don't want to. But if there is a way that I can control this…church, I will. I don't trust it. But I trust myself._ Okay, that was…interesting. _I also wanted to just tell you that…well I've always told you that there are things bigger than ourselves, right? I wasn't always talking about the prophecy, or the church, or the tribunal. I was talking about what I…felt. Leaving isn't easy. Leaving you __again__ isn't easy, but I will always be here. Where ever here ends up being, but I'll still be around. _

Nathan inhaled sharply, and exhaled, clearing his throat. There was this tightness in his chest again, the same feeling he got when Charles told them he was resigning, and it was the same feeling he had when he found out Charles was alive. Actually, it was the same feeling he always had when Charles was around, like he couldn't exactly breathe, but he didn't exactly want the feeling to go away either. It made him feel vulnerable, and it kind of ached, but the aching usually went away when he was alone with Charles and he didn't have that to focus on any more.

His eyes drifted back to the letter. He didn't remember Charles being this wordy, but he supposed that if he didn't interrupt him all the time, Charles might have been. _I want to apologize for anything that I have done that might have hurt you, confused you, made you angry…any of those things. I also want to apologize for…well maybe that's for another time. But I want you to be happy. I want all of you boys to be happy, but I want you to be happy. If that's with Abigail, or someone else, I don't care. _

The letter sounded too much like giving up. It sounded too much like pushing away, and Nathan finished the rest of the letter, and folded it up. It was what was in the rest of the letter that got Nathan to run out of the room, letter in hand, and down into the garage.

"Hey, any of you jackoffs know where Charles is?" He yelled to the Klokateers, until one of them came forward hesitantly. Nathan pointed to the helicopter, "Take me there. Now."

Claire watched from what was now her office, looking out the window as the helicopter took off and flew into the distance. Her arms crossed over her chest, she smirked as she watched the helicopter fly out of sight before she turned around and went back to her brother's desk.


	26. Chapter 26

_Ten months ago_

What Nathan liked the most about night was just how dark it was. People were different creatures at night, the freaks came out then, and that was no different with him. He was more fun at night – mostly because he wasn't a morning or an afternoon person – and there was more fun stuff to do at night. He had seen those fun sides of Charles too, which wasn't something he ever thought he'd see. Sure, he had gone out drinking with the guys before, and got sloppy- _very_ sloppy – but it was different now. He was coming out more, partying with the guys more and even tried to drink one of them under the table before, though Charles found out very quickly that wasn't a smart thing to do, and stopped.

He never threw up though, Nathan always noted that. Charles always looked like hell the next morning, but seemed to bounce back pretty well. Nathan liked that about him.

Nathan also liked that when it was night, like dark pitch black night, and the guys were all passed out, that he had Charles to himself. He liked the way that Charles moved at night, he liked the way he felt, he liked the rough way that Charles kissed him even though Nathan would never tell him that. Even though saying these things weren't very metal, he could think them, and at night no one would give a fuck.

They weren't mind readers. Thank god. He'd get into a shit ton of trouble if they were.

But tonight was different. They hadn't gone out drinking to do shots, they hadn't watched a movie and fucked instead of paying attention to it. They hadn't decided to get into a fist fight and then have sex after.

They had spent the night just being in each other's company. Charles had some paperwork to do, and he focused on that, sitting on the couch with his legs stretched out to the table in front of them. Nathan decided to read a book that Charles had recommended; "you might want to check out H.P. Lovecraft, you might like his stuff" he had said to Nathan earlier in the week. Nathan had his legs hanging off the side of the couch, and his head in Charles' lap.

If anyone else saw this, Nathan would fucking kill them because this was not metal and no one was allowed to know what was going on here. _No one_.

But since it was just Charles, and Nathan was comfortable with him, well that was what he did.

Charles' free hand was messing with Nathan's hair, and while Nathan normally would have minded that, right now he didn't care. It actually ended up putting him to sleep, though he didn't know it until Charles woke him up. "Hey." Charles said, looking down to Nathan and smiled, "I'm done with my paperwork."

Nathan grunted, "Yeah? Cool."

"Yeah. Come on." Charles gestured towards the bedroom, and Nathan got up off the couch, and followed Charles towards the bedroom, where they both stripped of their clothes and got into the bed.

One of the things Nathan liked about night was that he could do what he wanted, and no one cared. He also liked that if he wanted to shift and sleep next to Charles with his arm around his waist, he could. He also liked that when he muttered things to Charles when he was half asleep, Charles wouldn't bring it up.

Like tonight, when Nathan definitely told Charles that he loved him, and then held Charles closer to him. Charles didn't say anything about that.

Charles only smiled.

_Present_

What Charles liked about the night was how quiet it made things.

It was always more hectic in the daylight, when everyone was up – humans, birds, bees, animals, everything was up and making noise and sometimes it made it hard to think. But when it was night, everyone and everything went to sleep, and that was when Charles was able to get the most done.

He had done most of his work at night, because there were no distractions. Even when he was with Nathan, and Nathan posed the biggest distraction of all, Charles was still far more productive and happier at night.

Just because he wasn't at Mordhaus anymore, that didn't mean that his view of nighttime changed much. He was just alone more, which was okay. Charles still hadn't gotten used to his title of High Holy Priest of the Church of the Black Klok – it was a mouthful and honestly, if one more person called him 'your Holiness', he wasn't sure how he would react. He was just Charles Offdensen. Or Sire, he really missed that one. Especially because it annoyed Claire that she had to say it to play along, he never got tired of that.

What Charles found most about the night now though, was that he used it to dwell on his past, to think about the things he never wanted to think about before. His first week at the church and his new place of living, he focused a lot on the first time he was there. While he wasn't living in the room he had been nursed back to health in, he visited it a lot. The comparisons from when he was there the first time to now were small, but they were there. Both times consisted of Charles not quite knowing what his place in the world was anymore, and losing a bit of himself in the process. But both times also consisted of a rebirth of the sorts – one time almost literal, and the next more spiritual.

The second week, he focused on what it was like when he first came back to Mordland after being gone for nine months, and those first few weeks back. He had felt so broken then, but still so determined to prove he wasn't weak. Charles couldn't believe just how stubborn he was back then, but he had every reason to be. Even if you need to see to believe, it was still hard to really comprehend. Humans by nature were stubborn; it was a way to survive.

The third week, he focused on Nathan. From then on out, most of his nights were remembering the time spent with Nathan, the good and the bad, the fights, the conversations, the stupid things that Nathan did and the times that Nathan actually didn't mind that Charles was correcting him.

What he missed the most though, was that before he wasn't alone at night. That when he was his most vulnerable, he was the one who was protected. He could let his guard down, and allow himself to be at peace. He had only ever been comfortable doing that around Nathan.

So, he missed that. He missed Nathan.

It took Charles a little bit to realize it, but his feelings for Nathan never made him weak, like he originally thought. Sure, it had given him some bad decisions, but at the end of the day, it made him stronger. It made him better. It changed who he was for the better.

These were all things that Charles wrote to Nathan about, and put in his letter. He couldn't remember the exact words, but he reminded Nathan that at the end of the day, he was fighting so that he could still be around for Nathan. No matter what, that had to be enough.

It was around two in the morning when Charles finally started to make his way towards his chambers. It was more of a real room, what he was used to, though still very much part of the mountain the church was built out of. His room held a bed, a desk, and a dresser – he was a man of few possessions lately, but he still had his brandy. He still had his saber, he still had his gun. He still had his glasses, though he wasn't sure if he needed them anymore – a lot of things had changed since he arrived here.

Next to his bed was a small table, and on that table was a photograph from about seven years ago. It was a photograph of Charles and the band, a promotional photograph, but it was still something he wanted to hold onto. Nathan had insisted he be in the photo, and not stand on the sidelines like a 'regular jackoff', so Charles stood in the middle, between Pickles and Nathan.

In a way, he still had memories of his past life everywhere he looked, and he wanted it that way. He needed it that way, if he was going to prepare himself for whatever was going to come next, the looming battle that he'd have to help win.

At night, Charles was alone, no one bothered him, and he liked it that way. It was easier to be left alone with his thoughts.

He arrived in his chambers and sat down on the edge of the bed, his robes still on and his hood still covering his head. He started to take off his shoes, when there was a shadow that was cast over the bed. He knew that shadow.

For a moment, Charles closed his eyes, and smiled. Sometimes, these images and thoughts were just a figment of his imagination. He had dreamed about this once, having a visitor in a room like this, though it hadn't been true – he was still in Mordhaus at the time, and the dream hadn't made sense.

It made sense now.

Charles turned and looked over his shoulder to get a good look at Nathan standing at the door. Charles stood up off the bed and walked towards him, as Nathan walked out of the doorway and more into the light of the torches that hung around the room.

His hood still covered most of his face, but he didn't have to see fully to know who was in front of him. He lifted his hands to his hood and pushed it back, looking up at Nathan. "What are you doing here?"

Nathan shrugged, "Was in the neighborhood."

"I highly doubt that." Charles smiled, "How did you know?"

"I beat it out of Claire," Nathan shrugged again, "Or, asked nicely."

"I bet." Charles cleared his throat, and gestured for Nathan to sit down, and Charles walked over to his bed. "You know, you shouldn't be here. I'm a man of God now."

"God, huh?" Nathan asked, looking around, eying the gun on the side table, "You sure about that?"

"Well, five gods actually, and since you're considered to be one of them, I suppose this visit is okay." Charles took off his medallion and went to set it on the bedside table, but Nathan took it from his hands.

Nathan looked at the gold piece, "I was the one who picked this up. Didn't know it would be going to you." He looked up at Charles, "You knew though, didn't you."

Charles nodded, "I did."

Nathan just nodded in return, and let the silence settle between the two of them, as Charles unbuttoned his robe, revealing only a plain t-shirt and boxer shorts underneath. Nathan laughed at this, "Some priest you are."

"Hey, it's been a month. Give it some time." Charles shrugged off his robe and hung it up by the doorway, and shut the door after. He walked over to the bed, and sat down next to Nathan, who had taken off his shoes. "You still haven't told me why you're here though, Nathan."

Nathan shrugged, before he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out Charles letter. "This is why I'm here."

Charles nodded, "Listen, Nathan, I—"

"I love you." Nathan interrupted, and Charles looked surprised for a moment, though he recovered and smiled.

"I know."

"You…what?" Nathan looked at Charles, baffled, but Charles just took Nathan's hand into his own.

"You told me once, a few months ago. You were half asleep."

"So then how did you know I was telling the truth?"

"Because that's just something you know when you love someone." Charles said, picking his words carefully. Though, he then decided that he didn't want to talk anymore, and kissed Nathan, who eagerly returned the kiss. There was that tight feeling in his chest again, Nathan thought, though it felt significantly better around Charles. A lot of things felt better around Charles.

Charles, on the other hand, had long given up wanting to fight what he wanted. He couldn't fight it any longer, and maybe the only person that had been standing in his way was him, but that wasn't going to be the case now.

Charles had decided that he wanted to have his own happiness, because he knew what it cost him when he tried to hold back. He had decided that he was just as important as anyone else that he was fighting for, and maybe it was time to change his defensive styles. He was a different man now, and judging by the way that Nathan kissed him, the way that they both eagerly undressed each other, he was different too.

He wasn't sure what part of the letter made Nathan react how he had, and Charles wasn't sure what part of what he had said made Nathan come to see him, but he wasn't going to ask questions. He was done asking questions. All he needed to know was what was right in front of him. He knew what his future held, because he could see it clearly now, and he knew what path he would need to take. All of these paths would lead him back to where he belonged.

That night, Nathan rested against Charles' back, holding onto him tightly, his lips against Charles' neck as he told him again that he loved him. This time, Charles said the same thing back, and twined his fingers with Nathan's around his waist.

Weak. It had been a word that Charles feared ever since he had come back. He had feared of being seen as weak, he had feared of being taken advantage of, he had feared giving someone - anyone - a way to chip away at his armor. He never wanted to give his enemies a way of getting to him. What he realized now is that not a single part of him was weak. He hadn't been weak when he came back, he was only different. He hadn't been weak when he realized his feelings for Nathan, he was then only made stronger, given something more to fight for. He wasn't weak. He never was.

Nothing could get to him now.

Senator Stampingston, General Crozier, and Vater Orlaag stood around the circular table, with Mr. Salacia sitting high above them. "Gentlemen," Stampingston said, "We have discovered that Charles Offdensen has resigned from his position with Dethklok. He has been replaced by a woman, his sister, Claire Elizabeth Offdensen."

"He has a sister?" Orlaag asked, and looked to Salacia, "This could be a way to destroy the Dead Man once and for all."

General Croizer agreed, "Yes, my Masters, we can get to him using what matters to him the most."

"_Yes_," Salacia spoke, his words almost at a hiss. "We will use this to our advantage, once the traitor has been activated. But for now, _we wait_."


End file.
